


To My Golden Hour

by roseflavored



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blood Drinking, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Modern Royalty, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Werewolves, implied/referenced emotional abuse/manipulation, one-sided junmyeon/minseok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseflavored/pseuds/roseflavored
Summary: Werewolf Prince Jongdae and Vampire Prince Junmyeon's marriage gets off to a rocky start, to the say the least.





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt petal 210**
> 
> **warnings:** this work contains multiple references to past **emotional abuse/manipulation** and **uses of alcohol**. there is one scene that could be upsetting to those triggered by emotional abuse/manipulation, and it has been marked off with a "▲▲▲" and ends with a "▼▼▼" for those who would like to skip that scene. there are two scenes in act two that focus on alcohol, both of which start and end with a "▀▀▀" for those who would like to skip it.
> 
> **a/n** : dear prompter, i'm sorry if this wasn't what you expected, but i hope you enjoy anyways! HUGE thank you to mod honeybee for being so kind and understanding and more than accommodating of my frustrating ass T^T<3 and a big thank you to S for the beta work on act one!

It’s awkward the night of Junmyeon and Jongdae’s wedding. 

They’re sitting next to each other against the headboard of their new canopy bed in the highest room of some remote, gaudy castle—a relic that's been in the Vampir family for centuries. It was only recently modernized to suit the new royal couple: floral carpeting, red, striped wallpaper that covers the ancient brick walls from floor to ceiling, rococo furniture that could have been family heirlooms or last-minute thrift store finds. 

Worst of all, in Jongdae’s humble opinion, are the oil paintings of past monarchy decorating the walls, staring down at them with empty eyes and disapproving scowls—15th century windbags who’d surely turn over in their mausoleums if they were to learn of such an "unholy union" between werewolf and vampire. Jongdae makes a mental note to toss them in the woodchipper one day. 

If not for the old, decrepit hags hanging up on the walls, Jongdae would probably consider the place to be on the same level as some of the standard love hotels in the city he’d frequent, minus the maroon mood lighting and next-door orgies. 

Although he supposes he shouldn’t be so harsh on the place. After all, it’s to be his home for the remainder of his years. 

“I'm-" Junmyeon says after moments of silence, startling Jongdae from his silent interior decorating critique, "I'm...sorry. About what- what just happened." Junmyeon wrings his hands in his lap, and Jongdae almost feels a little sorry for him. Almost. 

"You mean when you called out my brother's name while we were making out?" Jongdae asks. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid smirking when Junmyeon visibly flinches in response. "Nah, don't worry about it," he waves a hand dismissively, "wouldn't be the first time that's happened, if we’re being honest." 

Junmyeon looks up at Jongdae, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. Jongdae eyes the splotchy hickeys and indented bite marks that litter Junmyeon's neck, courtesy of an over-eager Jongdae. 

"You're...joking, surely?" Junmyeon's thick eyebrows squinch together, like a puppy that’s lost sight of its owner. 

"Surely not," Jongdae says honestly, crossing his legs and leaning back against the engraved headboard. "I mean. When you're listed as one of the most eligible bachelors in all nine lands while also in line to take over the throne, you're bound to have a lot of suitors. But brother dearest was 'married to the kingdom' so to speak," Jongdae does exaggerated air quotes and pitches his voice higher to resemble that of Minseok's, "and turned everyone down. What a waste! Luckily, I was there to console all those poor babes with a shoulder to cry on and a dick to sit on." 

”That’s...” Junmyeon nods, and Jongdae can see the mechanical gears turning and picking up speed in his head. He did that a lot, Jongdae’s noticed, going over everything he was about to say in his head twenty times over before actually saying anything. 

”Deplorable? Despicable?” Jongdae supplies. “Decidedly douchey?” 

”Very honest of you, Prince Jongdae,” Junmyeon settles on. 

It’s a bullshit answer, one of Junmyeon’s specialties, but Jongdae takes it anyway. 

They, or rather Junmyeon, decide to end the night there. Junmyeon sleeps in one of their 500 other rooms, despite Jongdae’s insistent protests and cries of “It’s fine, it wasn’t even that weird!” 

”Goodnight, Prince Jongdae,” Junmyeon had whispered before closing the door shut behind him, leaving Jongdae with only the windbags on the wall for company. 

The cicadas chirp aggressively in the moonlight outside, like tiny annoying alarms signaling the arrival of summer. 

The air is suffocating, and the small of Jongdae's back a swamp of sweat and musk. Jongdae quickly divests himself of his robe to splay out naked on the bed like a starfish, his tired bones and muscles creaking in thanks as he sinks into the memory foam. 

After such a long night, the sudden quiet and loneliness is unnerving. He’d have thought this time alone would be welcomed, but then again, he’s always hated the quiet. 

The wedding service itself was a horrid affair, he remembers. A televised event that had garnered millions of viewers across the lands while Jongdae exchanged vows with a man who wasn’t meant for him. Royalty and civilians alike cried and rejoiced at the extravagant display, embracing one another in the streets at this symbol of peace between rivalling factions. A moment in history, whispered the dignitaries in their seats, a modern Romeo and Juliet story, cooed the housewives watching in their modest living rooms. 

Jongdae grumbles, tosses and turns on the disgustingly large bed, punches his stiff pillow, and grumbles some more. 

”Fucking stuck-up vampires,” he says to no one. 

He doesn’t know much about the vampire prince, Jongdae realizes, only having met him a handful of times before the wedding. Several of those instances took place during the meetings between their two families to discuss Minseok and Junmyeon's wedding. 

Junmyeon, prim and proper, had always presented himself carefully, every word and action calculated twice over in his head as if a single mistake would mean his neck on the guillotine. 

Except for the little furtive glances directed at Minseok that he thought no one saw, which Jongdae always had a laugh about afterwards. 

In many ways, he reminded him of Minseok. The two would have been good together—a picture perfect model of peace and diplomacy, representing the best of both kingdoms in public while engaging in boring, monogamous sex in private. 

But then Minseok up and vanished the night before they were to be wed, all thoughts of the kingdom and its needs out of mind when he begged Jongdae not to tell anyone of his plans before riding off on his royal steed. 

And now Jongdae’s the one meant to represent the Wulfen Kingdom arm in arm with someone who had once been considered a blood enemy to his family. And he doesn’t even get to have the monogamous sex. 

Jongdae grumbles to himself some more, kicking off the sheets to angrily jerk himself off.

  


☾

  


As a child, Jongdae had always known he’d never be able to marry for love, would never be able to choose whom he’d spend the rest of his life with. That was fine by him—he’d considered it a small price to pay in exchange for his life as the second prince, all the luxuries of royalty with only a fraction of the burgeoning responsibility. 

At the reception, they had their first dance as a married couple. It was almost picturesque. The two gliding across the floor in tune to the sweeping strings of orchestral music, exactly how their instructor had prompted them to, while guests in attendance swooned and sighed at the perfect couple. It was nothing like the dance practices Minseok and Junmyeon had done weeks prior, nothing like their clumsy steps and awkward fumbling of hands and feet. It was nothing like the bashful way Minseok and Junmyeon would look at each other, giggling under their breath as they attempted not to step on each other's toes. 

When Jongdae dreams, he dreams of Junmyeon’s hand on Jongdae’s back, Jongdae’s hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder, their eyes only meeting for the briefest of moments before they follow the exact pattern of movements laid out for them.

  


☾

  


Jongdae and Junmyeon aren't in line for the throne, but their future first-born, a child raised Wulfen and Vampir, would be set to inherit both kingdoms and their lands once of age. 

It’s the perfect set up, in Jongdae’s opinion—continuing to live his life of luxury for several more decades, and all he’d have to do is be Junmyeon’s arm candy at public events and then find someone willing to pop out a kid for them. 

Admittedly, it’s a lot easier said than done. 

Junmyeon is the perfect embodiment of a prince—in just a little over a month, his philanthropy and progressive attempts to reach out to both of their communities managed to almost completely change the Wulfen people’s public opinion on the Vampir. 

Conversely, Jongdae has been every trashy journalist’s favorite muse, his face taking center stage on the cover of cheap magazines and social media posts. It’s what he does best, after all. 

Being the cause of his parents' disappointment isn’t new to Jongdae. It comes with being the second prince, always vying for attention in the worst ways possible and relishing in the scraps of recognition he’s given. However, disappointing Junmyeon’s parents was new. They’d never say it out loud, but it isn't hard to decipher the icy glares and condescending tones of voice during their occasional visits. 

Disappointing Junmyeon himself was also new and, surprisingly, a lot harder to deal with. 

For one, Jongdae had to live with the guy, obligated to be publicly seen with him for set amounts of time. The eye rolling and tongue clicking was amusing the first couple days—while at breakfast with ambassadors, behind the scenes at a charity event, during hour long car rides to the next high-profile gala. But then it continued even within the walls of their own private castle. 

Every one of Jongdae’s jokes, actions, and even the way he looked at him felt as if he were being met with a sort of polite scrutiny on Junmyeon’s end, like Jongdae was a misbehaving pet that had piddled over the new carpet. 

And that kind of disappointment was new, because Jongdae wasn’t even trying, wasn’t vying for attention, wasn’t trying to prove he had something to offer outside of Minseok’s shadow—Jongdae incurred Junmyeon’s disappointment just by _existing_.

  


On a sunny morning, two weeks before the full moon, Jongdae had tumbled into their bedroom, smelling of alcohol and department store cologne. 

Junmyeon should have been asleep by then, safely tucked away from the sunlight. And yet there he was, sitting in one of their ghastly sofas that he purposefully rearranged to face the door. 

It’s almost comical, the sight of Junmyeon glaring at him with his arms crossed in silk, floral pajamas. 

”And where have you been?” There’s restraint in Junmyeon’s voice, like he’d be cursing Jongdae out of house and home if the action weren’t beneath him. 

”Like you don’t know?” Jongdae scoffs, already shedding his outer layer of clothing and letting it fall to the floor. “Was that not one of your boys following me around all night?” 

Junmyeon’s shoulders tense up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Jongdae puts his palm to his mouth and makes a resounding fart noise. “Buuuullshiiit. You think I can’t sniff out Vampir royalty from a mile away? Werewolf. Remember?” He points at his nose, and Junmyeon has the nerve to roll his eyes. 

”And? How are you so sure they were following _you_ specifically? My men have a right to a night out once in a while.” 

Jongdae laughs outright at that, an abrasive sound that bounces off the walls. ”Your men don’t do late nights out,” he says as he takes a seat on their bed, “your men—or in this case the one man, which was rather insulting I mean c’mon, not even your usual posse? Do you really think so little of me, Junmyeon—all have royal curfews because none of you can take two steps into the daylight without erupting in hives, or whatever.” 

Junmyeon takes a deep breath, and Jongdae snorts at the action. “They are not ‘hives or whatever,’ they are incredibly painful welts that may vary in intensity and-” 

”Oh spare me the biology lesson,” Jongdae interjects, and he swears Junmyeon’s eyes flash red. “Hives, welts, what-the-fuck-ever they’re called—point is, even if I couldn’t get a whiff of your guy, a Vampir skulking twenty steps behind you with red ass rashes all over his arms and face isn’t exactly discreet.” 

”I told Sehun to cover up,” Junmyeon whispers, more to himself than to Jongdae. 

”Ah, Sehun is it? The lanky guy in your court? No wonder he smelled so familiar.” 

Junmyeon’s nostrils flare, and a part of Jongdae takes pleasure in breaking down the perfect prince like this. “Listen, I was able to tolerate your little Gatsby phase at first-” 

”Tolerate? You’ve been riding my ass so hard, I can barely walk anymore.” 

”Because we have an image to maintain, Jongdae. I get it, you never chose to be a prince, and you sure as hell didn’t choose to marry me. So you act out, try to stick it to the people who forced you into this life. I get it, really. 

But guess what? I didn’t choose this life either, I never asked for any of this. But it’s not like I have it hard either—I live in a fucking castle, I wear designer brands I can’t even pronounce, I drink imported blood, for Christ’s sake! And if all it takes is for me to be out there every single night, acting as a goddamn symbol of peace, or whatever the fuck those people need me to be, then fine. If putting on a fake smile and marrying a stranger is what it’ll take to prevent a _blood feud_ , then slap a ring on my finger and call me Mother Theresa.” 

Jongdae smirks derisively. “So the truth comes out. You really think you’re some kind of hero of the people, don’t you? I mean I’ll give it to you, you’ve done a good job of tricking the masses—you even had _me_ thinking you were some perfect saint for a while. But you’re dead wrong if you think being a good actor means you have any right to condescend to me about what it means to be a prince. And guess what, Prince Junmyeon, you’re not ending any wars any time soon by taking pictures and looking pretty next to a bunch of sad, poor people.” 

Junmyeon quiets at that, and Jongdae would have taken that as a victory if his head weren’t full of rocks at the moment. He unzips and takes off his knee-length leather boots, the smell of a long night of dancing nearly making him gag. He tosses both boots towards the corner of the room. 

”If you need me, I’ll be in the other room.” Junmyeon’s voice is barely audible when he leaves and shuts the door behind him. 

The “other room” is the room at the end of the hallway, almost identical to the master bedroom meant to house overnight guests. Junmyeon often retires there to be alone, rushing out of the master bedroom before the vein on his forehead explodes from another confrontation with Jongdae. Junmyeon has been sleeping in that bedroom for most of their marriage now.

  
☾

  


On a warm summer night, a week before the full moon, Jongdae scarfs down a ten-course meal. It’s been specially prepared by one of their five-star personal chefs: Kobe wagyu beef, jamón ibérico, racks of lamb, all meticulously plated and served on fine China. All the culinary training goes to waste in front of Jongdae, who tears into the bloody red meat with fervor, the elegant dining table reduced to nothing more than a party platter of food scraps and bone. 

He’ll need the energy for the impending full moon—as careless as Jongdae appears to be, losing control while shifting is the one thing he would never allow. Jongdae knows how much damage he is capable of when he’s partying with an inebriated orc, or when he’s crashing his newest Mercedes into the walls of a blood bank. How much damage his wolf is capable of, Jongdae doesn’t know, and he’d rather keep it that way. If inhaling pounds of food and locking himself up in a basement when the full moon is at its strongest and then taking medication to keep his wolf from coming out every other night is what it’ll take, then so be it. 

Junmyeon knows the shift is the reason behind Jongdae gorging on steak with no end in sight. He had to be well versed in the ways of werewolves even before he was to be married to one, just as he is with all the other known species across the lands. Minseok was the same way, always chatting Jongdae’s ear off about the differences between orcs and trolls and ogres and yes those differences matter! It’s what comes with being a first prince, Jongdae supposes. 

Even so, that doesn’t stop the look of distaste evident on Junmyeon’s face as he observes Jongdae from across the other end of the table. While Jongdae tears his meat clean off the bone, Junmyeon takes measured sips of freshly harvested blood, dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin each time. 

Junmyeon doesn’t have to have his meals with him—Jongdae’s portions increase the closer the full moon approaches, whereas Junmyeon could last an entire week on just that one glass. It’s the principle of it all, Junmyeon had said during their first awkward dinner together. Eating meals together is more than _just_ eating together, it’s about convening once a night and trying to understand each other, starting a dialogue and blah blah blah diplomacy, blah blah blah an important part of how marriage works—something along those lines, anyways. 

”So, Jongdae,” Junmyeon clears his throat just as a chunk of venison goes flying across the table, “I see you’re preparing for your...time of the month.” Typical of Junmyeon to persist in engaging with Jongdae, even though he can tell it’s a struggle for Junmyeon to say more than a few words at a time to him. There’s still tension between the two, and their public interactions have dwindled enough for the tabloids to spread rumors about “trouble in paradise.” But Junmyeon’s committed to his peacemaker facade enough to attempt stilted conversation regardless. 

”It’s not a period, Junmyeon. You don’t have to be weird about it,” Jongdae says around a mouthful of beef. “But yes, I am.” 

”It’s in a week, yes? The full moon?” 

”Yeah.” 

”And where do you plan on staying? I’ve heard there’s a specially designated area just for werewolves not too far from here, and-” 

”I was thinking more along the lines of the dungeon downstairs, actually.” 

Junmyeon stares at him with wide eyes, glass halfway toward his mouth. For a second it’s silent, save for the sound of Jongdae’s ravenous eating. 

”O-oh?” 

”Yep. It has been desolate for years, but the foundation is still solid.” 

”How do you know that for sure? I don’t think I’ve even given that place a visit—I was actually thinking of having the whole thing taken out entirely,” Junmyeon says, then mutters something into his glass about how useless and archaic the whole place is. 

”I had Baekhyun come by and test it out some time ago, actually.” Jongdae smiles when he remembers how enthusiastically Baekhyun had hit his head against the wall while in wolf form. Baekhyun is an anomaly—a werewolf with immense will capable of controlling his transformation. Wolves able to shift at any time, even when the moon only filled up a quarter of the way, weren’t uncommon, but only made up a small percentage of the kingdom’s population. While most wolves could only transform during the day if they were to become overly excited or aggravated, wolves like Baekhyun could shift at the drop of a hat. 

Jongdae has always been jealous of how in control Baekhyun is of his wolf, ever since the two were teenagers. After all, boys and girls alike were far more interested in someone that could shift like it was a party trick rather than someone who was confined to his own home during the full moon. 

But in moments like those, where Jongdae sat on the floor giggling like a schoolboy while Baekhyun snarled and tilted his head at the Baekhyun-shaped indents in the wall, it was all worth it. 

”Ah, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon sounds out the name, emphasizing each syllable. “We haven’t had the chance to meet often, but he seemed...nice, at the wedding at least.” 

Baekhyun cried hysterically at their wedding and then bedded two waitresses and a valet boy in the coatroom. Needless to say, many went home without their coats. 

”He is! It truly is shocking that you two aren’t already good friends, hold on I’ll text him your info-” 

”No, no!” Junmyeon’s quick to hold both his hands up, face looking panicked, and Jongdae has to hold back his laughter. “That’s- that’s perfectly fine. I’m sure we’ll run into each other one of these days.” He downs the last of the O negative in his glass and, while Jongdae’s opinion of the vampire hasn’t exactly been favorable, he eyes the way Junmyeon’s Adam's apple bobs nonetheless. 

”Why the sudden interest in where I stay while I shift anyways?” Jongdae asks, picking up a chunk of rare meat with his hand and unceremoniously shoveling it inside his mouth. 

”Well, I just...was curious, so to speak,” Junmyeon’s hands are folded atop the table, eyes focused on a spot on Jongdae’s forehead, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a werewolf willingly isolating themself in such a way before.” 

”Well, I’m not like most werewolves,” he says with a wink. Junmyeon receives it with a tight smile. 

”Even so...I mean, to my knowledge, Minseok preferred to surround himself with a pack.” 

”Ah yes,” Jongdae downs a glass of water, softening the food in his mouth so he can consume it faster. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, but Jongdae can see the tired disapproval in his features. “My brother is more of a naturalist, honestly—he always made a spectacle out of the full moon, doing those little rituals with his friends in the woods and howling at the moon in unison.” 

Minseok was as beautiful as a wolf as he was as a person, with a dark coloring and handsome markings just underneath his amber eyes. But unlike Minseok the person, Minseok the wolf was as playful as a pup, chasing after other Wulfen with an unbridled joy that Jongdae had never seen on his brother. Jongdae chuckles at the memory, recalling the way his brother would tilt his head back and let out the loudest howl that had all the forest creatures scattering for cover. 

He hopes Minseok is as free now as he was then. 

”Really?” Junmyeon looks at him, eyebrows furrowed as he takes in this information. “I never thought him to be the type.” 

”There's a lot about Minseok you don’t know about,” he says casually, sucking the bits of sauce and meat out from under his fingernails. 

Junmyeon is quiet, eyes staring down at the table, and Jongdae wonders if he’s said something to offend. But at this point in their relationship, what hasn’t he done to offend Junmyeon? 

It stays like that for a moment—Junmyeon quietly contemplating something Jongdae probably wouldn’t understand while Jongdae chews the fat off a bone—until a maid enters and shuffles away their, mostly Jongdae’s, plates. 

”Oh- I didn’t even- thank you,” Junmyeon finally says when his empty glass is gingerly lifted out of his hands. 

”Well,” Jongdae stands abruptly, and Junmyeon snaps to attention, “it’s been fun Junmyeon, but I have other matters to attend to.” 

Junmyeon’s eyebrows scrunch together, as they often do, Jongdae’s realized. “Long night planned?” 

”You know it.” Jongdae’s smile is greasier than the state of his fingers. 

Before Junmyeon can even open his mouth to reply, Jongdae’s already striding out of the dining hall with ease, tuning out Junmyeon’s inevitable nagging. He doesn’t have the time nor strength to hear about how he’s embarrassing the new kingdom and sullying the family name with his nights of debauchery, thank you very much. 

He’s one step away from the door when a hand lands on his shoulder. It takes every ounce of patience left in his tired body to take a deep breath and repress the snarl building in his throat. 

Apparently it’s not enough, because Junmyeon’s expression falters when Jongdae turns around. ”I-” Junmyeon drops his hand to his side like he’s just been burned, “I forgot to mention that there’s going to be a gala at the Art History Museum a week from now. They’ll be featuring art from prominent Wulfen and Vampir artists.” 

“...and?” 

Junmyeon rubs the back of his neck. “And they’ll be expecting us.” 

Oh. “As much as I’d love to attend and pretend you’re not mentally cursing me out the whole time, I’m gonna have to take a rain check. I’ve got other plans that night.” 

”Such as?” 

”Turning into a crazed, blood thirsty wolf.” 

Realization dawns on Junmyeon’s face. “That’s right, that’s next week, isn’t it?” 

”Sure is. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Jongdae turns to leave again, only stopping when Junmyeon calls out his name again. 

”What now, Junmyeon,” Jongdae sighs, “I don’t have time to keep entertaining you.” 

”I just,” Junmyeon wrings his hands, “wanted to, um- I wanted to tell you to stay safe,” he mumbles. 

”...What?” Jongdae stares at him. Surely, he heard wrong. 

”I...” Junmyeon clears his throat and straightens his posture, “I haven’t been...I should’ve-” Junmyeon’s fumbling, the gears in his head stuttering in place. Jongdae wonders if he should be looking away. “What I mean to say is,” Junmyeon finally settles on, “have fun, Jongdae. And, you know, be safe.” 

”Uhh, okay,” Jongdae says, effectively weirded out, “am I speaking with the real Prince Junmyeon right now?” 

He waves his hand in front of Junmyeon’s face, and Junmyeon lightly thwaps it away. “Look, I know we’re not exactly best friends, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil. We’re married, after all.” 

”I mean, technically yes.” 

”And...I just want what’s best for my husband.” 

”Okaayyy, weirdo. Right back at you, I guess.” Jongdae speed-walks away, ignoring Junmyeon’s ‘I’ll certainly try!’ as he does so. 

Junmyeon’s weird, but Jongdae’s pretty weird too. That's the only explanation for why he keeps looking behind as he walks out of the dining hall and out of the castle. He can still feel the weight of Junmyeon’s hand on his shoulder, and any moment now Junmyeon will come barreling out to chew Jongdae out for his life choices. 

He doesn’t. 

Jongdae sinks further into the backseat when the car traverses further into the city, miles of trees turning into tall buildings and bright lights speeding by. As if it senses where he’s headed, his phone erupts with alerts and text messages. Still, Jongdae thinks about the hand on his shoulder.

  


☾

  


Jongdae didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. 

They were on their way to a garden party in the city to take advantage of the lovely spring weather, Jongdae’s mother had said. Minseok was riding with their father in the car in front of them, getting quizzed on every important name and figure that would be attending the event. Jongdae envied Minseok, even though Jongdae was only ten and would surely forget every piece of information as soon as it registered in his head. 

Still, at least he would have someone to _talk_ to. 

Jongdae’s mother was stock-still in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes unreadable underneath expensive sunglasses. She often reminded Jongdae of those dolls on display, the only difference being that many of those dolls had permanent smiles on their faces—his mother’s lips, however, were forever pursed, as if she had a frog living in her mouth. 

Whenever Jongdae opened his mouth to say something, his mother would nearly snap her neck with how quickly she turned to look at him, her gloved finger pressed to her lips to silence him. Jongdae sighed and looked out the tinted window instead, reminiscing on days when he was too small to be brought along to such occasions to be flounced around the room like a show dog. 

The car slowed and then fully stopped, bumper to bumper traffic all around them. It was then that he saw them, a group of rowdy wolf pups playfully fighting in a park, chasing one another around and nipping at each other's heels. His breath fogged up the glass as he pressed his face against it to get a better view. 

Jongdae wasn’t allowed to play with other children, not since his growth, and he wasn’t allowed to shift outside of the castle. 

But oh, how he longed to feel the dirt and grass underneath his paws, to feel the wind in his face as he cried and howled with all his might. If his tail were out right now, he's sure it would be wagging emphatically. 

As if they had read his mind, could sense the desires of his heart, the group of wolves turned their noses up toward the sky and howled, commanding the attention of all those around them. 

The wolves had yet to mature, so to anyone else it sounded more like the cries of hungry pups looking for their mother. But to Jongdae, starved for the company of his own kind, it was a symphony that resonated in his very soul. 

He cautioned a look at his mother, her expression unchanging as she stared straight ahead. When he opened his mouth, his voice came out in a croak that he covered up with a cough. He glanced at his mother again, and still, she was motionless. 

Jongdae took a deep breath, then another. For years, he was told to suppress his wolf, to never awaken it outside of the walls of the castle. But right then, right there, he looked towards the circle of wolves and he howled. 

Loud and piercing, his voice reverberated in the confines of their car. It only lasted a second, but it was liberating, invigorating, like a sort of freedom that he would never have again. 

And then a hand roughly grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back until his head bounced off the seat. 

”Jongdae,” his mother hissed, “what do you think you're doing?” Even when rebuking him, his mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. The partition had been lowered, and Jongdae noticed their driver stealing glances at them through the rearview mirror. 

”I- I was-” Jongdae meekly pointed out the window. In perhaps a cruel twist of fate, the traffic had begun let up and the car sped forward, eventually leaving behind the group of wolf boys until they were nothing more than small dots in the windshield. 

"You were _howling_ ,” her hand was still on Jongdae’s shoulder, and sharp nails and heavy rings indenting his skin, “in broad daylight and outside of castle grounds at that.” 

Jongdae’s voice is small, any confidence he might have had previously effectively squashed. “Mom, I just wanted to-” 

”To unleash your wolf? To terrorize the land and destroy our kingdom? To bring shame to the Wulfen?” 

”No!” His mother’s voice was tight, her hold on him like a vise, and Jongdae felt seconds away from whimpering and clawing at the upholstery. 

”We’ve almost arrived, madam,” the driver cut in, not once attempting to look back. 

Jongdae flinched, his other hand immediately touching his shoulder when his mother released her grip. 

It happened so quickly; like a wind-up doll, his mother resumed her original position, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes unreadable. 

A massive estate slowly came into view as their car pulled into a long driveaway. Jongdae’s shoulder throbbed. 

”Did you remember to take your medication?” Jongdae’s mother had finally said once they exited the car. Her heels were a spotless white, clicking methodically against the pavement as they walked toward where Jongdae’s father and Minseok were waving them over. Jongdae kept his eyes trained on the ground. 

”Yes, mother.”

  


"-dae. Master Jongdae?"

A hand is on his chest, shaking him awake. For a brief moment, Jongdae panics, nerves alight with adrenaline as he grabs the stranger’s wrist, claws lengthening and digging into flesh. 

The person shouts, and Jongdae immediately retracts his hand when he recognizes the voice. 

”Mr. Kim,” Jongdae whispers, frozen as his driver sat hunched over in his seat, clutching his arm. Even in the backseat, Jongdae could see the red stain on the fabric of Mr. Kim’s sleeve. “Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

”S’all right, Master Jongdae, you couldn’t help it.” His voice is stiff as he speaks, and Jongae’s heart sinks. 

Jongdae looks at his hands, at the sharp, dull yellow claws. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s breathing until his phone rings in his pocket—his alarm. 

_10:00PM — take your medication_ , reads the alert on the screen. It’s 10:30. 

”Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” Jongdae says, immediately digging through his clutch bag for his syringe. 

It should be fine, right? He’s only thirty minutes late? That’s fine, that’s fine, he just almost tore his driver’s arm off, it’s fine. 

Only, his hands are large and clunky now, or maybe it’s just in his head? Or maybe not, because now the hairs on his hands are thickening and growing. His head swims, and his muscles ache, and he can’t find his goddamn syringe. He tries to whine, shout in frustration, but it all comes out in growls and snarls, saliva dripping down his chin when his canines expand. There’s the distinct sound of fabric tearing, his clothes too tight for his body, and Jongdae needs to act fast. 

He hurriedly empties of his bag onto the seat, its contents spilling onto the seat and floor. The small part of his brain still capable of cognitive thought is screaming at him to focus but it’s too late, every bone in his body is suddenly straining underneath his skin. They’re too big, they’re too big for his fucking body and they’re gonna snap and his breath comes out in short little gasps until it’s nothing but huffs and choked off sounds. 

There’s a stinging pain in the side of his neck, then hot relief. 

The air is muggy with humidity and the combined scents of the city's population. Jongdae sniffs—no matter how often he visits the place, he'll never be used to it. He’s changed out of his clothes into grey sweatpants and a Garfield T-shirt, the shredded remnants of his tailored suit now laid to rest in the trunk of his Tesla. “It’s all I’ve got in here, sir,” said Mr. Kim when Jongdae frowned at the bag of clothes in his driver’s hand. The bandaged state of Mr. Kim’s arm was the only reason Jongdae had taken the bag without another word and proceeded to change in a convenience store restroom. 

Jongdae nods at Mr. Kim when he sees him, the driver sitting idly in the car in the small parking lot. His phone buzzes again, another alarm and a text message from his mother that he dutifully ignores. "Appointment with Dr. Choi," shines bright on the screen. 

"Alright, let's get this over with," he mutters to himself. 

He starts the short trek to Dr. Choi’s personal office. Above him, the moon shines like a beacon, acting as his guiding light. 

The office building is smack-dab in the middle of the business district, a maze of brightly lit skyscrapers and neon signs competing to swallow up the moon and stars. Jongdae easily maneuvers through congested groups of office workers stumbling home, their shoulders hanging low, eyes sunken as they make their way toward the subway station. Jongdae used to wonder what it would be like had he been born under normal circumstances, if he’d be wearing pressed suits while clacking away on a keyboard in a small cubicle. Jongdae doesn’t even entertain the thought anymore; after all, monsters like him don’t deserve any sort of normalcy. 

Jongdae stops at a crosswalk, observing the people in bright clothes filling up the noisy row of clubs across the street. He would be among their numbers any other night, leather running tight across his body as adrenaline thrums underneath his skin in time with a hammering bass beat. Unconsciously, he taps his foot to the music pouring out of the doors, mind blank as he hums along to the sparse vocal arrangements. 

He doesn’t notice the flashing light of the crosswalk signal until a man bumps into his shoulder roughly, grunting upon impact. A vampire—Jongdae could smell it. Though the dried blood stains on the man’s collared shirt were also a dead giveaway. 

”Watch where you’re going, bitch.” The man didn't seem to recognize his Crown Prince—nobody around them did. Jongdae always drank an imported elixir that made him undetectable to the general public when he went into the city. Of course it was rendered completely useless once Jongdae got any alcohol in his system, but tonight, it’s in full effect. 

Anger and annoyance flash across Jongdae’s face, and he growls without thinking. 

”Aww what’s the matter, Fido,” the vampire taunts, “lil doggy hungry for a treat?” 

”I am, actually,” Jongdae replies, “those chicken fingers you have for legs don’t look too bad.” Someone behind him snickers, and it momentarily boosts Jongdae’s ego. 

The man glares at Jongdae, hands at his sides balled into fists. ”Careful, dog. Your precious prince wouldn’t appreciate his kind trying to pick fights with your new kin.” 

’When and why would I ever say something like that,’ Jongdae wants to say. But then he remembers that this man doesn’t know who he is, and that Prince Jongdae did, in fact, say something like that. Granted it was part of a scripted speech at some press conference he immediately forgot about afterwards, but he definitely remembers saying something like that. 

”You’re right,” Jongdae says instead, suddenly straightening himself and looking as composed as he could be in a Garfield T-shirt, “my beautiful, saintly prince did say that. And, as a courtesy to him and him only, I’ll spare you the displeasure of me ripping your throat out and gnawing on your bones. Good day, sir.” 

Jongdae walks past the vampire without another word, roughly bumping against his shoulder as he does so. 

As he continues down the street, he can hear the man’s shouts of how Jongdae’s kind should be kept muzzled and leashed. A snarl builds up in his throat—in seconds he could leave that vampire unable to speak for the rest of his miserable life. Instead he takes several breaths and reigns it back, the memory of Mr. Kim’s bloody arm still fresh on his mind. It'd be a waste of Jongdae's energy anyways—he had other business to attend to. 

At the very end of the business district, where flashy pubs and restaurants turned to run down stores with barred up windows, lies the building he’s been looking for. 

Situated between a bail bonds office and a small liquor store sits Dr. Choi’s practice, a white, shabby blemish of a building with peeling paint and cracks in the glass windows. The windows themselves are boarded up with wooden planks, deterring any curious passersby from peeking in. "CLOSED FOR BUSINESS" reads the cardboard sign stuck to the door with layers of tape. 

It occurs to Jongdae that he could leave at any moment. For once in his life he could follow his instincts, pick a direction, and just...run. He doesn’t realize how long he’s had his hand on the metal door handle until his phone buzzes away in his pocket—another alarm, another slew of messages from his mother. Jongdae takes a deep breath, eyes closed as he turns the door handle, and enters. 

The fluorescent lighting strains his eyes when he walks in, and it takes a second for him to adjust to his surroundings. He’s greeted by a barren waiting room, a ghost of what used to be a medical clinic. The stark whiteness of the walls and tile forces him to squint. Twenty years ago, this place was like a second home—he rubs his arm as he remembers the injections, the tests, the wires hooked up to his small body as he thrashed against a hospitable bed, leather restraints digging into his skin. 

Even as a fully matured wolf, Jongdae still feels the urge to tuck his tail between his legs and whimper pathetically against the floor. 

He considers texting Mr. Kim to prepare the car when a small woman walks out, a smile lighting up her face. "Ah, Jongdae, welcome back!" Dr. Choi calls out, a melodic, familiar sound that takes Jongdae back to his youth. “You’re a little late today, but that’s alright. I always have time for you,” she chuckles. 

Dr. Choi is a short, unassuming woman with braids of long, salt-and-pepper hair that stop at her waist. She wears the same modest clothing she’s worn for decades—floral print dresses and comfortable, white nurse shoes. Dr. Choi hasn’t changed much since Jongdae first met her as a child, save for the prominent lines around her eyes and mouth. She was the only doctor that made Jongdae feel safe and looked after, and he was grateful that if anybody was willing to continue the practice, it was her. 

”Apologies, doctor,” Jongdae shrugs meekly. Despite the height difference, Dr. Choi always knew how to make him feel like a timid child again. “Traffic was a wreck.” 

”Oh that’s alright,” she replies, hooking her arm with his. “Come, come, Jongdae, there’s no time to waste.” She’s warm against his side, and it does little to calm his fractured nerves. But it helps. 

They shuffle off into the back, and Jongdae’s breathing is a little uneven when Dr. Choi opens the door. 

If anything about this place has changed drastically since Jongdae’s youth, it’s the examination room. The white tile flooring had been removed in favor of hardwood, and where there was once a sterile exam table surrounded by top of the line medical equipment, there is now a leather sofa flanked by a cushy armchair. 

Dr. Choi smiles at him expectantly, and Jongdae nods in reply. It’s with heavy steps that he walks over to the sofa and lies down. They’ve been doing this for the past eight years, and while he definitely prefers this method over the ones employed in his childhood, it doesn’t make the process any less nerve-wracking. 

He hears Dr. Choi take a seat on the armchair, and Jongdae swallows, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. 

“How are you today, Jongdae?” 

”Good.” 

A pause, then a hum. ”Are you lying to me?” 

A swallow. “Yes.” 

”Did something happen?” 

Mr. Kim and his bloody arm. The vampire that bumped into Jongdae. Junmyeon. Junmyeon’s hand on his shoulder. “Yes.” 

”Would you like to talk about it?” 

”No.” 

”That’s fine. Remember that we won’t do anything you don’t want to.” 

That’s a lie. Jongdae’s been here his entire life, long enough to know that’s not true. He’s been in chains, in straitjackets, in a cage, behind glass. He’s been poked at, cut open, boxed in. Even now, as a fully grown man, he’s here against his will. 

”I know.” 

”Have you taken your medication yet?” 

”Yes.” He remembers the stab of the syringe against his neck, the sheer panic and desperation that had flowed through him moments before. 

”When?” 

”Last night,” he lies. 

Dr. Choi tsks at him. “Cutting it a bit close, don’t you think? The full moon is tomorrow night.” 

”I’ll take it earlier next time.” Jongdae’s voice comes out in a whisper. A child that’s just been reprimanded. 

”Good. Remind me to give you a refill on your way out.” There’s some minor shuffling, then a click. White noise starts playing from somewhere in the room—Dr. Choi’s old cassette player. The audio quality has a grainy edge to it. At least that hasn’t changed since he was a child. 

”Now,” Dr. Choi says, returning to her original seat, “close your eyes, and concentrate only on the sound of my voice.” 

Jongdae closes his eyes, and surrenders.

  


_Breathe in…breathe out. In...and out. Imagine a ball of pure light at the center of your abdomen, spreading throughout your body, rolling off your shoulders and dripping down the tips of your toes. Breathe...breathe. Now picture a forest, lush and evergreen. Look around. Breathe in. And out. Take in your surroundings, feel the light breeze kissing your cheeks, the grass tickling the soles of your feet. Good._

_Now, look for the wolf. The biggest wolf there is—it won’t be hard to miss. Have you found it? Don’t be alarmed if it starts growling; you are the one with the power here. Don’t forget to breathe._

A large, silver wolf stands before him, as majestic as it is intimidating. It stands completely still, eyes staring straight into Jongdae’s. 

_Breathe._

Jongdae does as instructed, inhaling and exhaling. The wolf continues to stare him down. Something’s different. It’s always left by now, tail swishing as it bounded away, leaving Jongdae behind. 

_What is the wolf doing?_

”Standing there. Watching me.” 

_It isn’t hostile?_

The wolf is unmoving, dark eyes never once leaving Jongdae’s. “I don’t... think so…” 

_Interesting… try approaching it. Envision yourself making your way toward it. Keep your palms up and open as you slowly inch forward, and don’t forget your breathing._

Jongdae does just that, hands up and open as he approaches the wolf. The wolf itself doesn’t move, only looks at Jongdae. 

It’s much bigger up close, towering over Jongdae, its own breathing ruffling strands of hair on Jongdae’s head. He has to look up just to maintain eye contact with the beast. The wolf’s eyes aren’t just dark—they’re endless abysses, black holes that have swallowed up entire galaxies. Any previous curiosity is replaced with a visceral fear. 

_Breathe._

In. Out. Inhale. Exhale. Stare into the abyss. Breathe. 

Why don’t you try speaking with it? 

”What do I say?” 

_That you are in control here._

Somehow, he doubts that. Jongdae opens his mouth, but something in the wolf’s eyes tells him that it’d be a lost cause. 

It stares down at him, unblinking, unflinching. No, a creature like this—otherworldly and haunting all at once—could never be controlled, not by Jongdae at least. 

It huffs then, startling him as it licks its lips. 

_Breathe. Did you speak to it?_

”Yes.” 

_What did you say?_

”That...that I am in control.” 

_Good. And the wolf? Where is it now?_

Inches away from his face. A boundless black sea in its eyes. Familiar and foreign. Attempting to tell him something. Attempting to communicate with only the stars in its eyes, words unspoken in the air. 

”It’s walking away.” The wolf blinks then. 

_Good. Don’t forget to keep breathing._

In. Out. His breathing in time with the wolf’s.

  


☾

  


It's the day of the full moon, and Jongdae is in chains by the time the sun makes its slow descent.

There’s a little window in his cell, the fading daylight casting shadows on the floor. Jongdae’s position against the wall prevents him from turning to look out it, but he likes to picture how beautiful the sky must look right now—a watercolor of oranges and pinks blended in perfect harmony. 

”Are you sure all this is necessary, sir?” A guard speaks up, shocking Jongdae. 

Vampirin guards watch warily from the other side of the dungeon cell’s bars as another secures the restraints around his wrists and ankles, adjusts the burdensome, metal collar on his neck. It was all comically large on him, and Jongdae had to sit extra still in order to avoid slipping out of them. 

”Of course I am,” Jongdae says when the guard begins to wrap the chains around his limbs, “why wouldn’t I be?” They all hang loosely from his arms and legs, but will be a tight fit once he shifts. It’s for the best, really. 

”It’s just…” the guard that had suddenly spoken up continues, thick eyebrows drawn close together as he eyes the metal around the prince’s body. “It’s a bit much? Isn’t it overwhelming?” 

Jongdae raises his eyebrow at the question, laughing when he finally realizes. “Oh that’s right, all of you are new. The sight of your Prince locked away in such a state is probably a lot to take in.” When he’s adequately restrained, the guard exits the cell, locking it behind him and retreating to the back of the cluster of equally concerned Vampir. 

”What’s your name?” Jongdae calls out to the guard with the eyebrows. 

It’s interesting how much the Vampirin guards differed from the Wulfen guards Jongdae had known all his life. For the sake of balance, the castle’s staff was an even split between Vampir and Wulfen—another testament to how the two kingdoms were meant to live in harmony, he supposes. The Wulfen are pack animals by nature, forming small, tight-knit groups with almost no secrets between them. In comparison, the Vampirin staff are far more secretive, keeping to themselves even as they worked alongside one another. A Wulfen guard might have been more reluctant to leave their prince in isolation during the full moon, questioning why a werewolf would ignore his needs and not join his pack. When Jongdae asked the Vampir guards to chain him up like a dog and lock him in a dungeon for the night, they silently complied without a second thought. 

”Kyungsoo, your majesty,” the guard bows slightly, and the corners of Jongdae’s mouth quirk up in amusement. The other guards look at Kyungsoo with unease, as if mentally torn between admonishing him for speaking to the Prince out of turn, and appreciative for asking the question many of them had on their minds. 

”Kyungsoo,” Jongdae says warmly, “I appreciate the concern but really, once that sun fully sets, you’ll understand why something like me is better off behind these bars rather than on the other side.” 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to say more, but appears to second-guess himself, quietly nodding instead. It’s interesting, how that action reminds Jongdae of- 

”Prince Junmyeon!” All of the guards immediately stand to attention as their Vampirin Prince enters the rapidly darkening dungeon. He’s shining in every sense of the word, his black dress shirt exposing a sliver of pale skin, designer jewelry adorning his neck and fingers like stars. By his side is Sehun, Junmyeon’s most trusted consultant and occasional guard dog. Sehun attempts to sneer at Jongdae, only to flinch when Jongdae reciprocates with a hardened stare. 

”Junmyeon,” Jongdae says, “what brings you down to my humble abode? Don’t you have a museum gala to attend tonight? Or some orphanage to bless?” 

”The gala isn’t for another hour,” Junmyeon responds with his usual curtness, though his eyes portrayed and expression Jongdae couldn’t read, “I just thought that I’d…” 

”Come down to the basement and enjoy the show?” 

”What? No!” There’s actual, genuine shock in Junmyeon’s voice. Jongdae laughs. 

”Oh Junmyeon, I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Jongdae says. “I’ve been told it’s quite a sight. It’s not everyday that you get front row seats to see the biggest werewolf in the lands tethered down like a circus animal.” 

”Jongdae,” Junmyeon hisses, embarrassed to be engaging in such a conversation in front of an audience, “please. I would never do that, and you know it.” 

”Prince Jongdae, sir” Kyungsoo speaks up, eyes trained on the floor to avoid meeting the gaze of either prince, “forgive me for intruding, but the sun is…” He nods towards the window in Jongdae’s cell, at how quickly the daylight began to disappear. 

“I see,” Jongdae says. “Thank you, Kyungsoo. You and the other guards should take your leave now. Unless all of you would also like to see the show,” Jongdae chuckles, and so do some of the guards, albeit awkwardly. 

One by one, Sehun and the guards file out of the room, some casting backwards glances at their dungeoned prince. To Jongdae’s surprise, Junmyeon remains, his hands shoved into his pockets. Somewhere in the dungeon, Jongdae can hear a rat scurrying around, clawing at the walls. A snack for later, he thinks. 

”Is there something you need?” Jongdae asks when it’s clear Junmyeon isn’t going to break the silence. 

”Must you do this…” Junmyeon whispers, and if it weren’t for his sensitive hearing, he might not have picked up on it. 

”Do what?” 

”All...this,” Junmyeon gestures vaguely at Jongdae, at his shackles. 

”Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

”Does it make me uncomfortable to see my husband voluntarily entrap himself?” Jongdae bristles at the word ‘husband,’ but if Junmyeon noticed, he doesn’t say so. “Yes. It does.” 

”Well I’m sorry Junmyeon, but it’s just something you’ll have to get used to. Would you rather I run loose with the other Wulfen?” 

”If it’s possible, then-” 

”No, you wouldn’t,” Jongdae interrupts, and Junmyeon visibly deflates. He knows he’s being cold, that he’s pushing Junmyeon impossibly further away. But it’s for the better. “Those designated fields made for werewolves during the full moon? None of them are suited for a creature like me, couldn’t possibly contain me. The second I get out, this kingdom would be torn to shreds.” 

When Junmyeon doesn’t respond, Jongdae continues, desperate to get the other to leave the dungeon before he shifts. “Now tell me, Junmyeon. Would you rather I contain myself for one night out of the month, or have your kingdom, and your family name, crumble to pieces?” 

Silence falls again, heavier, palpable. Jongdae watches Junmyeon through the cell bars, unsure of how he wants Junmyeon to answer. If he wants Junmyeon to answer. Judging from the way Junmyeon’s hands are clenched into fists by his sides, his head hanging low, Junmyeon doesn’t know either. 

Just when he thinks Junmyeon might never leave, the vampire presses a hand against the bars. “Good night, Jongdae,” he whispers. 

Junmyeon’s footsteps echo when he walks out, the sound amplified in the quiet of the dungeon. 

There’s a lump in Jongdae’s throat that he can’t swallow, blocking his airway as his vision goes black. It’s the last thing he feels before he shifts.

  


☾

  


There was a window in the observation room—a small taste of the outside world. Jongdae loved to look outside as the sky changed colors. 

The day of the full moon was always scary. The anticipation of what was to come made him more afraid than his body changing, or the doctors and their big needles. Nobody except mother and Dr. Choi would talk to him on those days. Sometimes they would do things that made him shift in the middle of the day—those days were even scarier, because he could barely move after. 

But sometimes they left Jongdae alone—just hooked him up to the big machines and waited until night time. Jongdae liked those days the best. 

He’d stack up two crates, because just his tippy toes wasn’t enough, and look out the window. If he really, really concentrated, he could pretend he was out there himself. He imagined the sun kissing his skin, the golden rays washing over him like a warm blanket.

  


☾

  


Almost a week later, Jongdae administers his medication himself. Two milliliters of deep purple solution fills up the syringe. He moves on autopilot then: swabbing a spot on his deltoid with alcohol, inserting the needle, effectively keeping his wolf on a tight leash in preparation for the next full moon. Rinse and repeat every other week.

He puts on a thin, long sleeved shirt before gingerly laying atop the bed, his entire body stiff and throbbing. 

All werewolves suffer from muscle and joint pain after the full moon, but it slowly dissipates after two or three days at most. Jongdae hasn’t felt such a dull ache in years—just turning his neck slightly causes him to groan in pain. 

”What the fuck happened that night,” he whispers to himself, afraid of moving a single muscle. 

Jongdae had awoken that morning surrounded by dust and rubble, the bars of his cell bent at odd angles. All of his restraints but the chain attached to his collar were completely destroyed. He carefully felt the indentations on the walls, hand shaking when he realized if the wolf had kept trying, it would have broken through completely. 

Jongdae specifically instructed the guards to not enter the dungeon, and to remain at their stations at all costs, no matter what they may hear. When Jongdae approached the guards at the entrance on his way out, the men trembled as they spoke of what they heard—agonizing, blood curdling howls, the tell tale sound of something throwing itself at the cell bars, as if deranged. Several times they had feared that Jongdae would eventually escape and come for them, tearing through the walls and their throats in seconds. 

They were quick to apologize, stumbling over words and kicking themselves once they realized what they were saying and who they were speaking to. Jongdae attempted a comforting smile and assured the men that they would receive a hefty bonus for their troubles. It’s not as if their fears were unfounded, after all. 

Something had changed—Jongdae’s wolf is dangerous, but the medication and hypnosis had been successful in suppressing it until then. It had never been capable of breaking free from its restraints before, would never have been able to cause that much damage to the cell itself. The misshapen bars and weak condition of the walls weigh heavy on his mind. 

Jongdae thinks back to Dr. Choi’s office, the large, silver wolf that stood unblinking before him. 

He’s debating whether or not to notify Dr. Choi about this development when Junmyeon bursts into the master bedroom in a state of disarray, laptop in hand. Jongdae jumps at the abrupt entrance, immediately regretting it when all of his muscles throb in protest. 

Junmyeon’s hair sticks up in every direction, his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose, and the dark circles underneath his eyes appear bruised, almost painful. Jongdae’s taken care to avoid Junmyeon after that night. It wasn’t hard—Jongdae would claim to be in intense pain from his transformation, which was mostly true, and then take all of his meals in the master bedroom. 

Junmyeon, to his credit, never questioned him, only nodding as he muttered something about having business to take care of before he locked himself away in the room at the end of the hall. Perhaps it was because Jongdae holing himself up in the bedroom meant him spending less time out doing God knows what and ruining their reputation. Or perhaps Junmyeon was like Jongdae, avoiding him for no reason other than the fact that just standing close to the vampire would bring about questions in his mind he had no answer for. 

Perhaps Jongdae’s always been a coward by nature, he thinks as he quickly glances around the room to ensure all traces of his previous activity has been properly concealed and disposed of. 

”Oh, darling,” Jongdae says casually, hoping the sarcastic tone is enough to throw off any suspicion, “have you decided to join me for the night?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t answer and instead sits down next to Jongdae on the bed before opening up his laptop. It occurs to Jongdae that this is the probably the first meaningful interaction the two have had since the dungeon incident. 

”Look,” Junmyeon’s voice is broken, like he hasn’t used it in a while. ‘Or like he’s been crying,’ his head supplies. Jongdae ignores it like he ignores every thought concerning Junmyeon, and stares resolutely at the page loading on Junmyeon’s laptop instead. 

When it finally loads, Jongdae wishes he hadn’t looked. 

It’s a global news site, the headline in big, bold letters: _Wiccan Mall Shut Down for Seven Hours After Rabid Werewolf Attack_. Jongdae only skims the contents of the article: “A shopping mall in the city of Obsidia turned upside down after..." “...a werewolf from an unknown…” “...authorities speculate this is the same wolf responsible for the mauling of local school teacher…” “...urge civilians to stay indoors during curfew, and if you have any information on the whereabouts of…” 

Jongdae has trouble focusing, breath shortening when he sees the photos displayed on the screen. They’re blurry at best—screen captures of CCTV footage, photos taken from a distance on a phone—but Jongdae would recognize that coloring and those markings anywhere. He knows this wolf, has grown up with this wolf. 

But it’s not like the wolf he’d grown up with. Minseok’s wolf had gleaming, black fur, soft to the touch. It was noble, graceful in its movements. The wolf on the screen has matted fur, and patches of exposed, pink skin. There’s a short video clip of the wolf, and its movements are erratic and unpredictable as it lunges at crowds, throws itself against the walls. 

”Recognize who that might be?” Junmyeon asks. His voice isn’t just broken, it’s pained, unstable. 

Jongdae can hardly speak himself, and when he finally does, his voice is shaky, a rubber band about to snap. The wolf on the screen barely resembles Minseok anymore, but Jongdae would recognize those markings underneath its eyes anywhere. 

”Minseok.”


	2. Act Two

The Wulfen monarchy lived secluded from the mainland, their castle situated at the base of a small island a boat ride away from the rest of civilization. On every side of the castle were trees that shot out of the ground and touched the sky—a second fortress further shielding the castle. Behind it rested three large mountains, looming over the building like benevolent being, watching over the castle and protecting the inhabitants within. 

Junmyeon grew up reading about it, fascinated by the castle that lived and operated away from its people—like a chicken running around without a head, he would say, if the chicken’s body was a fully functioning civilization. Secretly, he’d cut out photos of the Wulfen castle and tape them to a section of the wall underneath his bed. His favorite picture was one taken just as the sun was setting, coloring the ocean a brilliant shade of tangerine. 

”So, what do you know about the Wulfen, Prince Junmyeon?” The playful smile on Minseok’s face complimented his youthful face. 

The pair were walking on a forest path behind the Wulfen Castle itself late at night. Junmyeon never had a chance to explore this part of the island before, and he marveled at the gnarled, rotting trees with their dense canopies that blocked out even the moon and stars. None of the pictures in his books looked like this. 

Minseok shivered slightly in his overcoat, his cheeks a rosy pink. Even though it was already Spring, its proximity to the North meant that it was always a touch colder in Wulfen territory. 

Junmyeon felt a little bad—if he had anything other than the silk blouse on his back, he’d offer it to Minseok. “Well, I know that the Wulfen Kingdom is one of the oldest werewolf kingdoms in history, second only to the Volic Kingdom, its closest ally and-” 

”So you know how to use Google,” Minseok said. Junmyeon would be insulted if the other weren’t still smiling. 

”I’ll have you know that I’ve been this knowledgeable long before I even knew how to use a computer,” Junmyeon shot back. 

”Ah, that’s right. ‘And this is my son, Junmyeon. He’s very smart you know—probably knows as much about the Wulfen Kingdom as any other person in this room.’” Minseok puffed his chest up and deepened his voice, imitating the way Junmyeon’s father had introduced him months ago. Junmyeon hit Minseok on the arm, though he too was smiling. 

The pair had snuck out after their waltzing lessons; ‘Just trying to make up for all the times I accidentally kicked you in the shin,” Minseok had said, one hand touching the back of his neck as the tips of his ears reddened. 

It was laughable, really—they were to be wed in a month, and yet this was the first time either of them had spoken to each other for more than two minutes without their parents interrupting. 

”Anything else, Mr. Wulfen Expert?” Minseok teased. 

”Well,” Junmyeon said, “there’s...the legend of the First Wulfen King.” 

”Oh? Do tell.” Minseok was teasing him still, Junmyeon suspected. After all, Junmyeon had only heard this story once, but every single child must know this legend like the back of their hand. He should’ve kept quiet and just recited more facts from his history books. 

Minseok continued looking at him expectantly while they walked, gracefully avoiding any obstructions—he was better at navigating the forest than he was at ballroom dancing. The trees began to open up the further they walked, little pinpricks of starlight illuminating the pathway, the greenery, Minseok’s curious eyes. Emboldened, Junmyeon began to recount the story of the First Wulfen King. 

”Well, it’s been said that before the First King was a king, he was a freak of nature, more wolf than man. He was born in a small village, where the midwife instantly dropped him upon seeing his appearance. He had deep yellow eyes, teeth that could slice through the thinnest sheet of paper, and ashy grey fur covering his entire body except for his fleshy, pink muzzle. A monster, the villagers called him—unwanted, unloveable. Legend has it that even his own mother couldn’t bare to hold him. So, she got on a boat and rowed for an entire night until she reached this very island. Here, she left him to die, not once looking back no matter how hard he cried for her warmth. Instead of perishing, he only grew stronger during his time here, surviving off the land and eventually creating his own kingdom and swallowing up all others in his way.” 

“Some say that he’s still alive, up there,” Junmyeon nodded his head toward the dark, ominous mountains just up ahead, “looking over the castle, at his legacy. Sometimes, during stormy nights where the roaring thunder drowns out all sound, he cries. Cries for the warmth he never knew, for the touch he never felt.” 

They’ve entered a clearing where the sky was now fully visible, a midnight blue that blanketed over the island. Here, the grass reached Junmyeon’s knees, his pantlegs damp with dew. He imagined being here centuries ago, imagined the First King’s small, vulnerable body, abandoned as he cried out for the woman who rowed an entire night just to be rid of him. 

Minseok barely noticed the change in scenery, his face thoughtful. Junmyeon wondered if he told the story wrong, embarrassed. 

Suddenly, they stopped in the middle of the clearing, the moon casting a halo over the two princes. ”Interesting,” Minseok finally said. 

”What is?” 

”The ending, where he cries. Here, we say that he goes to the highest mountain peak and howls in victory instead, like a warrior-king after a successful conquest.” 

”I see…” Junmyeon knits his eyebrows together. “Perhaps I’ve told it wrong then. It has been a while.” 

”If it’s any consolation, I prefer your ending much more. Even if it is a bit depressing.” Minseok laughs, and Junmyeon does the same—the smiling, laughing Minseok he’s come to know is much more preferable to the timid Minseok he first met. “You know, I’ve heard that story a hundred times over, but that was the first time I’ve ever heard anyone frame the First King in such a sympathetic light. 

”Is he not a sympathetic character?” Junmyeon asked. 

”He is. Well, I’ve always thought so at least.” 

Minseok’s eyes were far away as they stared up at the mountains. “Do you think he’s still out there?” Minseok whispered in a voice so low that Junmyeon almost missed it. 

”Who?” Junmyeon asked. 

”The First King. Do you think he’s still out there? Crying for a warmth he never knew?” 

When Junmyeon was much, much smaller, all he had were stories. A born vampire like Junmyeon was the rarest of all, and that caused his parents to be paranoid of every conceivable threat. Until he was a teenager, every window in the castle was covered with heavy blackout curtains, and every portion of blood he was served had to be tested by different people and stored in a locked safe. His only friends were Heidi, Alice, Peter, and the other main characters in the books that lined his shelves. If Junmyeon couldn’t leave the house, he could leave in his imagination. So when he read about the First Wulfen King, he clung to it like a lifeline. He fantasized about living in the forest and growing up with the First King, playing and laughing together in a world where no one could hurt them. 

As an adult, Junmyeon knows that story is just a myth, an urban legend people tell their kids—’Don’t eat too many snacks or else you’ll end up a monster like the First Wulfen King!’ or something of that nature. As an adult, Junmyeon knows he should laugh at the thought of a centuries-old king living on the mountains. 

Once, when Junmyeon was much smaller, both of Junmyeon’s parents had to leave for three nights. They locked a tearful Junmyeon in his room and instructed the guards standing outside to not open the door under any circumstances. His room connected to a bathroom, and the amount of blood he consumed beforehand would be enough to sustain him until their return. All vampires had a connection to their makers, and though Junmyeon was not like many others, he still had a connection to his parents that would alert them should anything happen to him. Logically speaking, he would be fine—he had everything he needed in the safety of his own room after all. 

And still he cried. For three nights, he laid underneath his bed and cried until he grew weary and succumbed to the fatigue, only to wake up in tears once more. When his mother finally returned, she found her son asleep underneath the bed, pictures of the Wulfen Castle clutched to his chest. 

”Prince Junmyeon?” There was concern in Minseok’s voice. Junmyeon realized he still hadn’t answered his question. 

”I think he’s still out there,” Junmyeon said. 

Minseok hummed. 

”I think so too.”

  


☼

  


While the public continue to debate on who the wolf is and where it came from, the Wulfen King was able to get in contact with the mayor of Obsidia almost immediately after CCTV footage of the wolf hit mainstream media.

In an age of modern medicine and technology, a rabid werewolf in a major city became unheard of. The wolf’s appearance created a panic that left everyone rushing to get their two cents in, clacking way at keyboards and appearing on television with whatever conclusion they had drawn from what little evidence they could find. Is it really rabies? Many photos of the wolf are unfocused, so it’s entirely possible that this could be some new epidemic. Perhaps it’s not even a werewolf at all, but an abnormally large wolf who sought out food and shelter after many of the forests in Obsidia had been ripped apart for new businesses. Perhaps it’s a weapon of biological warfare sent by the allied werewolf kingdoms, masterminded by the Wulfen. After all, the Wulfen were capable of overtaking the once powerful Hunto and Praedari Kingdoms, and very nearly crushed the Vampir before allying with them as well. What’s to stop them from setting their sights on Wiccan territory this time? 

The Wulfen King, who had immediately caught on to the wolf’s identity, had to find a way to retrieve his lost son without further involving his Kingdom. He also had to ensure that Minseok’s name was never mentioned—how would it look if word got out that this feral beast in foreign land was actually the King’s runaway son? With the help of his advisor’s the Wulfen King concocted a plan that was immediately set into motion. 

While not revealing any major details regarding the wolf’s true identity, the King was able to relay to the Obsidian Mayor that the werewolf in her city was one that belonged to his kingdom. 

The Obsidian mayor, recognizing that this wolf must be of some worth if the ruler of the once mighty Wulfen Kingdom is willing to go through such trouble over it, was able to successfully organize for the capture and detainment of the wolf a mere week after the King’s call. 

The mayor then struck a deal with the King: in exchange for a public endorsement during re-election season—alongside assistance with concealing rather unsavory practices regarding the usage and testing of illegal sensory-enhancement potions—the wolf would be handed over without question, and news of its capture would not be released if it was retrieved within 48 hours. After that, the mayor would not be held responsible if any information regarding the wolf’s identity happened to fall into the wrong hands of someone more persuasive and with more to offer.

  


Junmyeon’s head rattles against the tinted window of a gaudy, luxury tour bus, the world outside speeding past in a blur of bright colors. Since broom travel is a widely used method of transportation in Wiccan territory, the airways above Obsidia are heavily regulated, meaning their only way of getting there would be via a six-hour long drive. Even though they’d left the kingdom fairly early, the sun had already begun its gradual descent outside. Junmyeon sighs—in a matter of hours they would be in Carnelia, a small coastal town in the countryside squished between the Volic Kingdom and Obsidia. Once there, they were to meet with a representative from the Volic Kingdom—in an effort to further throw the public off his tracks, the Wulfen King called in for a favor from his oldest allies, who agreed to send someone with Junmyeon and Jongdae on their way to Obsidia. A red herring, he called it. 

Sehun’s fast asleep next to him, his head resting on Junmyeon’s shoulder as he drools all over Junmyeon’s overcoat. He whines in his sleep—little, quiet mumbles in a language Junmyeon hasn’t quite mastered yet—and Junmyeon pets his head. Honestly, Junmyeon envies him—he hadn’t been able to sleep in days, images of Minseok’s wolf with matted fur and blown-out eyes appearing every time he tried to close his eyes. Junmyeon leaves his laptop open on the dining table in front of him, and he nervously taps his foot as he receives even more messages and instructions from the Wulfen King. 

The night after they’d learned of Minseok’s location, both Jongdae and Junmyeon received calls from the Wulfen King. Jongdae’s lasted ten minutes, and the only thing Jongdae had said the entire time was a simple “yes, father.” When Junmyeon asked, Jongdae said he was to not take any action or leave the castle until his father called again with further instructions. 

Junmyeon’s call was three times as long, the King telling him he’d gotten in contact with officials from Obsidia. He went through a detailed list of possible scenarios that might occur, and what Junmyeon should be prepared to do in each one, stopping every so often so that Junmyeon could take notes. When Junmyeon asked if the King had told Jongdae the same thing, he chuckled to himself and replied that Jongdae wouldn’t be able to handle such crucial duties. 

Junmyeon’s laptop pings with another message, one with information on the building Minseok is currently held in. Junmyeon’s bottom lip is dry and cracked from how hard he’d been chewing on it since that morning. The Wulfen King didn’t specify why Jongdae and Junmyeon were the ones meant to retrieve Minseok instead of some nameless official, and neither of them questioned it. For his part, Junmyeon was all too eager at the time to recover Minseok, his head a tangled mess of anxieties as to what his former fiance could be going through. But now, Junmyeon’s head raced with possible theories that ate away at his sanity—that this was a test of their capabilities as representatives of the new kingdom, that perhaps their favorable public image (in Junmyeon’s case, anyways) played a part in the King’s selection, but then again, what merit could public image have in a situation like this- 

The bus goes over a nasty speed bump, and its passengers jostle in their seats. 

”Sorry about that, everyone,” the driver’s deep voice meekly calls out, seemingly unaware that the bus comes with a P.A. system. The driver, Kyungsoo, also happens to be their bodyguard for the duration of the trip. Junmyeon pities the other man—he never asked to be both a shield and a chauffeur. 

Sehun stirs awake at the movement, grumbling as he rubs at his eyes. “Are we there yet?” he whispers. 

”Not quite,” Junmyeon says as he eyes his Rolex. “About two hours to go.” 

Sehun yawns, his fangs still visible despite their filed-down ends. “Wake me up in two hours then,” he says, resting his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder again and falling back asleep in a matter of seconds. 

”Hey Myeonnie?” Baekhyun calls out. On the other side of the bus is a white, leather sofa, complete with glittery throw pillows. It’s where Baekhyun’s currently laying down, his socked feet hanging over one of the arms of the couch as he taps away at something on his phone. 

Junmyeon wrinkles his nose. That morning, just as they were loading their luggage into two, discreet black cars, Baekhyun had shown up in a flashy, red tour bus, a giant decal sticker of pop singer Kris Woof plastered all over the sides. ‘I know the guy who runs this tour company, and he kinda owes me. If we’re gonna road trip, we might as well do it in style,’ Baekhyun said, sipping on an iced coffee with too much whipped cream. 

”Y-yes?” Junmyeon finally answers. Something about Baekhyun makes Junmyeon uncomfortable, though he has yet to figure out what. He’s similar to Jongdae in almost every way, from the loudness of his voice to the complete disregard he has for boundaries. Perhaps it’s because Jongdae’s sense of disregard could be predicted—Jongdae fully understands what is expected of him, and then purposely does the exact opposite. Baekhyun lacks that purpose and understanding; he just lives chaotically. 

Baekhyun puts his phone away long enough to sit up, taking his cap off to put it on backwards. ”Are we gonna be stopping for snacks any time soon,” Baekhyun asks, a childlike lilt in his tone. “Baekkie’s hungie for burgies.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t quite know how to respond. 

“We’ll be stopping at a gas station right before we get into Carnelia,” Kyungsoo offers just then, “and I think there’s a diner nearby.” Bless Kyungsoo. 

Jongdae chooses that moment to come out of the bus’s one bedroom, his brown hair a disheveled mess, crust in the corners of his dark eyes. He squints at Baekhyun. “What have I told you about that ‘Baekkie’ shit.” 

”Aw, is Dae gwumpy after his nappy,” Baekhyun says, barely containing his laughter. 

Three steps is all it takes for Jongdae to reach Baekhyun and start punching him in the arm. It’s painful, judging by how loud the sounds are, but both of them end up in a fit of laughter nonetheless, looking more like school children than men in their twenties. 

Junmyeon can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s grateful for Baekhyun tagging along, despite him bringing an equally obnoxious bus with him. Jongdae had been uncharacteristically stoic ever since his father’s call, and Junmyeon didn’t realize how large Jongdae’s presence had been until it began to shrink during those few days. 

”Hey,” Jongdae’s voice startles Junmyeon, and he nearly jumps at how close Jongdae is standing next to him. “You wanna take a quick nap in the bedroom? You’ve been looking pretty dead lately,” Jongdae says, then purses his lips in thought. “Or dead-er. More dead? I don’t really know how you guys work.” 

”Thanks but I’m fine, honestly.” Though Junmyeon couldn’t deny that the thought of resting his head against a fluffy pillow sounds heavenly. 

”You sure? I could wake you up in time for dinner.” 

”Well...I suppose one little nap wouldn’t hurt,” Junmyeon smiles. It takes a little effort to get Sehun off his shoulder without the other waking up but once he does, he pads toward the bedroom, a yawn leaving his lips. 

Junmyeon closes the door behind him, and the last thing he hears is Baekhyun asking why Jongdae isn’t joining him, followed by a loud yelp as Jongdae hits him again. 

The room is ridiculously cramped, furnished with only a queen sized bed, a small dresser built into the wall, and a flat screen TV on the wall opposite the bed. Junmyeon has to sit down on the bed to take his shoes off, and when he flops onto the mattress he realizes there are no windows. There is, however, a full-length mirror on the ceiling—Junmyeon decides to lay on his side. 

Junmyeon anticipated restlessly rolling around on the bed for an hour until Jongdae came to wake him. After all, if he couldn’t sleep even in the luxurious bed in his own castle, then how could he sleep in a claustrophobic closet in the back of an RV? 

And yet, Junmyeon's eyes grew heavy, the vibrations of the bus lulling him into a deep sleep.

  


☼

  


Two nights before they were to be wed, Minseok and Junmyeon went for a walk in the forest just outside the Wulfen castle. Their walks had become routine at that point, just the two of them sneaking out at least once a week to chat about everything and nothing as the earth crunched underneath their feet. 

That night was different from the others—Junmyeon could tell by the sagging of Minseok’s shoulders, the pointed way Minseok avoided looking him in the eyes. 

They left later than usual that night, last-minute wedding prep duties keeping them behind longer than anticipated, so when they finally reached the clearing, the sky was already considerably brighter. Junmyeon was struck with anxiety—he’d never been out in direct sunlight before, and all he had on was a thin blouse and pants. 

The clearing was their usual stopping point, but Minseok continued walking even when Junmyeon began to slow down. When Junmyeon called out to him, Minseok was still walking, heading toward the mountains. Only when Junmyeon called out a second time did Minseok turn around, his face blank like he’d been in a trance. 

For a moment, it was silent, Junmyeon searching Minseok’s face while Minseok stared unblinking at Junmyeon. It was only a minute at most, but it felt like ages, and Junmyeon suddenly felt like hiding his face. 

“We should head back now,” Junmyeon said, breaking the silence. 

When Minseok finally moved, Junmyeon gasped. In a matter of seconds, the man before him was gone, replaced by a beautiful, black wolf with white, crescent markings underneath its eyes—it was as if the night sky had taken on the form of a wolf. 

Junmyeon stood frozen as the wolf moved toward him, its glossy fur shining with each stride. 

”How- how did- Isn’t shifting painful? How did you do that so quickly?” 

The wolf was up to Junmyeon’s elbow in terms of height, and Junmyeon startled as it licked at his hand. Before Junmyeon could even blink, the wolf transformed into a smiling Minseok, his eyes glimmering with that familiar playfulness Junmyeon came to know. 

The wolf was up to Junmyeon’s elbow in terms of height, and Junmyeon startled as it licked at his hand. Before Junmyeon could even blink, the wolf transformed into a smiling Minseok, his eyes glimmering with that familiar playfulness Junmyeon came to know. He was also completely naked, his shirt and pants left abandoned in the grass. 

”Pretty cool, huh?” Minseok chuckled, a big gummy smile on his face. Junmyeon nodded dumbly in response, making sure to keep his gaze on Minseok’s face and not on his surprisingly chiseled body. “I’ve spent more time as a wolf than I’ve had as a human since I was young, so shifting comes natural to me now.” 

As if to emphasize his point, Minseok shifted into a wolf again in the span of a couple seconds, playfully nipping at the bottom of Junmyeon's pants.

"H-hey!"

Minseok barked in reply, a sound that echoed throughout the clearing. He ran toward the direction of the castle, and Junmyeon gave chase, laughing all the while.

  


☼

  


Jongdae did not wake him up in time for dinner.

Junmyeon’s eyes open in complete darkness, a stale taste in the back of his mouth as his hand flounders around looking for where he put his phone. He manages to locate it underneath one of the pillows, only to squint at all of the texts Sehun had been sending the past hour: 

_”junmyeon.”_

_“junmyeon.”_

_“fuck it.”_

_“we’re eating at the diner across the street. prince jongdae said you looked so peaceful that he didnt wanna wake you. If youre hungry, i grabbed some bags from the luggage compartment and left them on the dining table”_

_“Idk which ones yours btw lol so good luck :P”_

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks,” he sends in reply, and Sehun sends back another text in record time: _“lol. We’re finishing up so we’ll be back in a bit if youre feeling lonely :P”_

There’s an unsettling silence when Junmyeon exits the bedroom, the dark interior of the bus ominous at night. Junmyeon has been used to the quiet his entire life, but now, the lack of loud, obnoxious laughter is almost suffocating. 

Junmyeon turns on the lights despite the fact that he doesn’t need to, flooding the carriage with yellow light. There’s a mountain of bags on the dining table, and Junmyeon starts digging through it, sniffing the air for the blood he packed for the trip. He wrinkles his nose at a red duffel bag that absolutely reeks, the scent of lavender mixing with a strong sea-salt cologne, creating a pungent odor that made Junmyeon’s nose burn. In short, it smells strongly of Baekhyun. He sets the duffel aside. 

He spies a black bag underneath the pile that looks like his and pulls it out. Junmyeon pouts when he sees it’s not the black crossbody bag he uses to store travel-sized bottles blood. His expression quickly changes from when he realizes what it is. 

In an effort to make a good impression, Junmyeon presented Jongdae with a custom-made leather clutch a week before they were to marry. Junmyeon made sure to oversee the production from start to finish, and even designed the insignia himself; the official emblem of both Wulfen and Vampir Kingdoms predominantly featured a moon, so Junmyeon took extra care in making sure theirs would be something different entirely. And so, Junmyeon was particularly proud of his final design: a sun with its many rays eclipsing the moon, showing that while they were fully aware of their roots, their kingdom would be an evolution, not an extension. 

Of course, the Wulfen-Vampir Kingdom would not have an official emblem until Junmyeon and Jongdae’s next of kin came of age and approved of one, but Junmyeon thought it was a nice gesture nonetheless. 

Jongdae didn’t seem to think so—he held it in his hands, touched the clasp, and said “Thanks, but gold isn’t my thing,” before setting it aside. Junmyeon hasn’t seen him with it since. 

Until now. 

Junmyeon gingerly picks up the bag like it’s a precious jewel, his fingers touching the emblem. It’s barely noticeable, but there are faint scratch marks on the gold, and Junmyeon wonders how often Jongdae had been using this thing. How often had Junmyeon been ignoring him that he didn’t notice? 

The silence is broken when his phone buzzes in his pocket, startling Junmyeon as he drops the bag onto the floor. the sudden impact causes the clasp to burst open, and Junmyeon swears when he hears something roll out of the bag and hit the wall. 

_”we’re heading back now~~~”_ reads Sehun’s text. 

Junmyeon kneels on the floor to pick up and put back everything that had fallen out of Jongdae’s bag: chapstick, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a pack of wet wipes, a bottle of painkillers. He gets on his knees and elbows to pick up whatever rolled under the table, rejoicing when he sees a small, dark bottle. 

”Gotcha,” Junmyeon whispers when he grabs it. He hurries to put it back in the clutch bag, worried about the others coming back and accusing him of snooping. Jongdae and Junmyeon’s relationship is questionable at best, but getting better, and he didn’t need this ruining the minimal progress they had made. 

Except. 

”What...on Earth…” Junmyeon says, reading the label on the small bottle in his hands. _Concentrate of Wolfsbane_ , it says. Junmyeon swallows. 

He’s read about wolfsbane being used in traditional medicine roughly a century ago. When diluted and mixed with other components, it makes for an effective sedative with endless uses. The first witches in Obsidia were known to use the steam from a boiled solution of wolfsbane and mugwort to put patients down under before mending broken bones, and Junmyeon knows that vampires had once used watered down wolfsbane and yarrow to soothe burn wounds. 

It’s long been outlawed since then. Government authorities across the lands have made efforts toward fully eradicating the species, razing every patch of land where the weed is found. When consumed, wolfsbane is capable of slowly shutting down one’s entire system, resulting in a slow, painful death as their insides bleed out. Today, only one known specimen is kept alive in an undisclosed location in Obsidia for preservation purposes. 

”Do not take more than what is recommended by your doctor,” Junmyeon reads, his stomach churning, “store in a cool, dark location. Side effects may include shortness of breath, panic attacks, heart failure...” 

_What are you doing, Jongdae…_

”We’re baaack,” Baekhyun calls out at the doorway. Junmyeon swears internally—he didn’t even hear their footsteps at the door, his mind a swirling mess. He doesn’t think when he pockets the bottle and shoves Jongdae’s bag underneath Baekhyun’s duffel. 

”W-welcome back,” Junmyeon attempts clears his dry throat. 

Baekhyun walks in first, rubbing his belly and dropping to the couch with a pleased sigh 

”I’m guessing everyone had a good dinner?” Junmyeon asks as Sehun, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae file in. He thumbs at the smooth surface of the bottle of wolfsbane in his pocket as he looks everywhere but at Jongdae. 

” _Some_ of us had a good dinner,” Sehun says, “that place only had goat blood. Goat blood!” He walks toward Junmyeon, and Junmyeon nearly flinches when Sehun gets behind him to rest his chin on Junmyeon’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. Moments like these made Junmyeon wish he were more like his parents and that his heart 

”It wasn’t so bad,” Kyungsoo offers, leaning against the armrest of the couch. He looks more like a guest at a children’s birthday party than a bodyguard. 

Sehun rolls his eyes. “For you. It was like acid reflux for me.” 

”Aw, was the shitty little diner with two dollar steak not up to Sehunnie’s refined tastes?” Jongdae says as he walks in. He gives Sehun and Junmyeon a once-over, eyes expressionless, before moving to sit next between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo on the couch. Junmyeon’s grip on the bottle tightens. 

When Jongdae leans into the couch cushions, his face scrunches. “Fuck, why does it smell like shit in here?” Everyone looks at Jongdae, perplexed. 

Junmyeon’s nails dig painfully into his palm. ”Huh?” his voice is pathetically small. 

”There is something a bit...unpleasant in the air,” Kyungsoo supplies, one dark eyebrow raised as he looks around the room. 

Jongdae grabs Kyungsoo by the collar, the vampire only moderately confused, and breathes in his scent. Seemingly dissatisfied, he stands and starts sniffing in Junmyeon’s general direction. The bottle weighs heavy in Junmyeon’s pocket. 

Surely he wouldn’t be able to smell the wolfsbane, right? The bottle itself is dense and thick, and even Junmyeon’s advanced senses couldn’t pick up any sort of smell when he found it. No, he’s fine, he’s fine. 

Jongdae makes a face then, going still in his seat. Junmyeon’s temple pounds. If Jongdae’s been consuming pure wolfsbane for god knows how long, then it’s possible he’s better at detecting it then others. But even just the scent of wolfsbane is enough to leave people dizzy and nauseous. But what if Jongdae’s developed some sort of immunity—who knows what kind of effects this shit has on his body? 

”Ugh, the whole place smells like Baekhyun,” Jongdae finally says; Junmyeon nearly collapses in relief. “What have you been doing in here?” 

”What can I say,” Baekhyun says, looking awfully smug as he leans back and spreads his legs. “I’m just dripping with alpha pheromones.” 

”That’s gross,” Sehun says, his chin digging into Junmyeon’s shoulder as he speaks. “No one wants your wet dog pheromones.” 

”You sure about that?” Baekhyun winks at Sehun, the action making even Junmyeon cringe a little. Sehun scoffs, even though his arms tighten around Junmyeon. 

Jongdae’s eyes are on Junmyeon again, and he swallows at the scrutiny, ”Have you fed yet?” Jongdae asks. “You slept for an hour and still look like shit.” 

”You do look rather unwell, Prince Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo agrees. 

Does he? Junmyeon had been trying so hard to act like everything’s normal and that he didn’t just find concentrated poison in his husband’s belongings, but maybe he’s a worse actor than he thought. 

Sehun moves away long enough to get a good look at Junmyeon’s face, frowning deeply. Even Baekhyun tilts his head, uncharacteristically worried. 

”I didn’t, actually,” Junmyeon says, only talking so that everyone would stop looking so intently at him. “You all came back right as I was about to, so, if you don’t mind.” He flexes both of his hands once, twice—a feeble attempt to relieve some of the shakiness in his hands. Junmyeon starts digging through the mountain of bags still left on the dining room table, the wolfsbane sitting like a stone in his pocket. He can feel eyes on him, and Junmyeon’s heart pounds hard inside his chest, reverberating in his ears. 

”Prince Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo’s voice has Junmyeon jumping, and the guard mutters an apology that gets drowned out by his heart beating in his ears. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll start driving to Carnelia now.” 

Carnelia- that’s right, the Volic representative is still expecting them. Then it’s off to Obsidia—he’d nearly forgotten. 

”That’s perfectly alright, Kyungsoo, thank you.” 

The guard nods, heading toward the driver’s seat without another word. 

Junmyeon lets out a sigh, unsure of where to go from here. There’s no possible way he could confront Jongdae about this any time soon, not when they’d be retrieving his brother in less than 24 hours, is there? They had a duty to follow, an obligation to the kingdom, and this threw a wrench in everything. 

Junmyeon’s hands move on autopilot, shaking only slightly as he reaches for a vial of blood in his bag. Sehun takes a seat at the dining table, scrunching his nose before pushing away Baekhyun’s duffel bag. “Get me some too, please.” 

”A royal consultant sitting idly by and making demands while his Prince gets his own food,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

”Our relationship is beyond consultant and prince,” Sehun says, an edge to his voice. “For a pack animal you’re pretty ignorant on how most relationships work.” 

”Am I?” Baekhyun winks. 

Sehun pretends to gag.

  


Obsidia is a booming metropolis, a home for witches of all backgrounds to convene and prosper. Tall, colorful buildings arranged in orderly grid patterns, advertisements for knock-off amulets on every corner, familiars roaming the streets in search of ingredients for their masters. There’s magic in Obsidia that can be found nowhere else, both in the literal and figurative sense, as if the city itself held a heartbeat.

Carnelia is the direct opposite of that; it’s a small countryside town with a population of exactly eighty people, many of whom are above the age of fifty. It’s been said that the town is a must-see for the beautiful view of the coastline during golden hour, where the sun hits the sea just right and casts everything in an ethereal, orange glow that photographs just don’t do justice. 

When the Wulfen-Vampir tour bus rolled into town, it was well after midnight, and the only sights were miles of farmland, judgemental livestock, and a dusty wooden sign that read: “Welcome to Carnelia: #1 source for magical herbs, and even more magical friendships!” 

They park in the driveway of a small, two-story inn across a quiet forest of pine trees. It’s rustic, the red of its brick walls and the browns of its old, wooden beams clashing with the lush greenery of the hills behind it. The porch creaks under their weight, and if Junmyeon concentrates, he can imagine a tumbleweed rolling by. The only thing about the place that looks relatively new is a coin operated kiddie ride on the porch in the shape of a broom that, for some reason, says ‘yeehaw’ on the side. 

”I wonder why the Volic representative wanted to meet here,” Junmyeon says, grimacing at the amount of dust that comes off when he touches the ride. 

”Obviously we’re dealing with someone whose taste is too refined for our uncultured minds to comprehend,” Jongdae says. “Now we better get moving. Baekhyun’s lagging behind right now, but he’ll start begging you for change the second he sees this thing.”

  


”Welcome to the Cozy Carnelia Inn! What can I do for y’all?” The man at the front desk has a bright red cowboy hat and a chipper voice that doesn’t quite match up with the bags under his eyes. 

”Do you happen to have any rooms available for the night?” Junmyeon asks. 

The man types something into his computer. “Ooh, sorry, but we only have two rooms free right now.” 

”Looks like some of us will have to share,” Baekhyun’s grin is greasy as he nudges Sehun’s arm. Sehun side-steps closer to Kyungsoo. 

Junmyeon takes the two room keys and gives one to Kyungsoo. 

”So, do I leave our stuff in the room now, or after your meeting?” Sehun asks. 

”Well, you’re free to do what you wish now, considering that I’m staying with Jongdae.” 

Both Sehun and Jongdae, who had been buried in his phone until then, look dumbstruck. 

”I mean, it’s only natural that I room with my husband, right?” Junmyeon says, looking at Jongdae. This would be the only chance he’d have to confront Jongdae about the wolfsbane before they were to leave for Obsidia in the morning, if he decided to take it. 

”...Right,” Jongdae says, “whatever you say, dearest.” Junmyeon doesn’t miss the sarcastic tone, but the man at the front desk beams and whispers something about young love. 

Sehun is distraught. ”But that, that means I really will have to room with-” 

”C’mon, Sehunnie, let’s give these lovebirds their privacy.” Baekhyun hooks his arm with Sehun’s dragging the other along while he keeps his eyes on Junmyeon, betrayed. 

”Don’t worry, Prince Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo says. “My senses are incredibly heightened, and I will be down here in a flash should you and Prince Jongdae find yourselves in trouble.” 

”Thank you, Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon replies with a sheepish smile, “but honestly, I’d feel a lot better if you kept an eye on Sehun. You know, make sure he doesn’t kill Baekhyun before we have to leave.” 

”You think Sehun could kill Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks after Kyungsoo’s walked up the stairs. 

”You think he can’t?” 

”Oh no, he could definitely take him. I’m just miffed I have no one to bet against now.” 

Baekhyun, Sehun, and Kyungsoo’s room is on the second floor, while Junmyeon and Jongdae’s is on the ground floor—the two putter around awkwardly until the tired man at the front desk eventually shows them to their room. 

”I call bed,” Jongdae says the second Junmyeon opens the door, rushing past him to hop onto the mattress. 

”Are we not sleeping in the same bed?” Junmyeon asks as he closes the door behind him. 

”Sorry, but I already called it,” Jongdae says, shutting his eyes. “You’re welcome to curl up at the end of my feet, though.” 

Junmyeon picks up one of Jongdae’s carry-on bags and drops it on Jongdae’s stomach, the other making an ‘oof’ sound. 

”You can’t sleep yet,” Junmyeon says as he takes one of his own bags into the bathroom, ignoring the glare directed his way, “we’re meeting with the Volic representative at the restaurant here in fifteen minutes, so get dressed.” 

”Is what I’m wearing not enough?” 

Junmyeon gives him a pointed look. “Basketball shorts and oversized T-shirts don’t exactly make for a good first impression,” he says, closing the bathroom door. 

Junmyeon sucks in air through his teeth when he catches his reflection in the mirror—the dark circles underneath his eyes, though considerably lighter now that he’s had some rest, are a stark contrast against his pale skin. There’s a layer of stubble along his jaw and chin, and a rather angry looking zit on his cheek. And he thought Jongdae looked unpresentable. 

He takes off his coat, debating whether or not he had time for a quick shower, when a bottle falls out of his pocket and hits the tile floor with a loud thud. 

The wolfsbane. Right. 

”Everything alright in there? You didn’t slip and die, did you?” Jongdae calls out from the other side of the door. 

”It’s fine,” Junmyeon answers. He picks up the bottle, eyes scanning the label as it would give him anything new. Junmyeon sits on the bathroom floor, the back of his head against the door as he wracks his brain for any information on the effect wolfsbane has on werewolves. He’s had to have read about this at least once in his life, but he’s got nothing. On the ride to Carnelia, he did a quick internet search that only gave him various warnings and the number for poison control. 

He holds the bottle in his hand like it’s an anchor, keeping him grounded while he tries to navigate uncharted waters. Throughout history, wolfsbane’s function in traditional medicine was purely that of a sedative, distilled and used only sparingly with other ingredients to produce something that had the benefits of wolfsbane without any of the life-threatening side effects—the natural anesthesia created by witches, the salve vampires used to numb and soothe burn wounds. There’s a chance then that Jongdae could be incorporating the wolfsbane concentrate with other natural ingredients to subdue its poisonous effects. But what would he be doing with the resulting mixture? Junmyeon hits his head against the door. What the hell would a rich werewolf prince want with an illegal, deadly sedative? 

_”Would you rather I run loose with the other Wulfen?”_

_”If it’s possible, then-”_

_”No, you wouldn’t. Those designated fields made for werewolves during the full moon? None of them are suited for a creature like me, couldn’t possibly contain me. The second I get out, this kingdom would be torn to shreds.”_

Junmyeon gasps, his hands suddenly shaking. If Jongdae’s wolf is as dangerous and destructive as he says, and if he wanted to contain his wolf, then a sedative like wolfsbane would- 

His phone buzzes incessantly on the bathroom counter, interrupting Junmyeon’s train of thought—the alarm he’d set for five minutes before they’d have to leave to meet the Volic representative. Junmyeon swears internally when he turns it off, his reflection making him swear again. He needs to shave, he needs to change, he needs to do something about that monstrous pimple on his cheek. 

There’s a knock on the door. “You ready yet?” Jongdae says. 

Junmyeon’s ghastly face stares back at him in the mirror. “Almost.” 

”Okay well, I’ll be out here when you’re done.” Junmyeon expects that to be the end of it, and he miserably sets the bottle of wolfsbane on the counter before taking his shirt off. 

There’s another, softer, more restrained knock at the door. “Hey,” Jongdae says. 

”...Hey?” Junmyeon replies, head stuck in the neckhole of his shirt. 

”I just- You don’t have to go, if you don’t want.” 

”Jongdae, what on Earth are you talking about?” 

”What I’m talking about is, you were already in a bad place when the news about Minseok dropped, and now you’re just running yourself into the ground because of all the stupid shit my father is making you do, and it shows. Have you seen yourself?” Oh, he has. Junmyeon knows he has a point, that he’s been stretched beyond his limits. 

”It can’t be helped, Jongdae.” 

”Yes it can,” Jongdae says, an edge to his voice that could be felt even through inches of wood. “When Minseok left, I was happy. He was just like you—doing everything that was expected of him without question. And it was hell for him—he hated it there, even more than I did. The night he left, he was puking his guts out in a bucket and broke down on the bathroom floor.” Jongdae’s voice is shaking, and Junmyeon resists the urge to open the door and give him a hug, lest he scare him away. 

”I was so happy that I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. And then you went and fucked everything up. I used to think you were an arrogant, pompous prick who thought he could do everything. But you can’t. You can’t do everything, you can’t kill yourself trying to please the people who just see you as a pawn,” Jongdae’s voice is softer, but clear, and Junmyeon wonders if he has his head against the door. “Now I spend every other second wondering if you’re gonna pass out from lack of sleep, or thinking about how long it’s been since you last fed and if it’ll be enough when you’re so stressed, or what the fuck is going on in your head whenever you blank out and look like you’re gonna break down if someone even touched you.” 

Junmyeon swallows, his throat suddenly dry and aching. “Jongdae, I didn’t-” 

”It’s like, why do I care about you, though? I really don’t get it. Why do I care if you ruin yourself the way Minseok did? You’re an arrogant, pompous prick. You said my brother’s name when I tried to kiss you. You wear ugly jewelry and think museums are fun. But I keep looking for you even when you’re not around, I keep thinking about you even though you probably don’t even think of me.” 

Junmyeon can hardly breathe. 

A thud against the door. “Anyways, I just. Yeah. I’ll head down to the restaurant first and I’ll wait around for a little bit before going in. You can stay- you should stay here and. Get some sleep. See ya.” 

When Jongdae’s footsteps disappear, Junmyeon’s breath leaves him in a shudder. The wolfsbane on the counter stares at him, and Junmyeon stares back. 

”Goddamnit, Jongdae,” Junmyeon whispers, pulling on a dress shirt and jacket. He pockets the wolfsbane and leaves for the restaurant.

  


The restaurant at the in is a quaint little place with cow print tapestry on the walls, and large barrels in place of tables. The place is entirely empty save for two men—one in a suit, the other with bright red hair and wearing a white shirt, khakis, and suspenders—sitting near the back, and Junmyeon questions the validity of the front desk person who said there were only two rooms available.

Jongdae’s dressed in a white dress shirt with a black blazer and a silk tie. His hair’s parted to the side, exposing his forehead—he cleans up nice. Junmyeon still looks like death in comparison. 

They avoided eye contact when Junmyeon met up with him outside the restaurant, Junmyeon’s chest aching at the puffiness of Jongdae’s eyes. 

Even as they walk toward the two men in the back, they keep a distance. 

”Oh fuck, not this guy,” Jongdae says underneath his breath when they approach and get a better view. 

Junmyeon turns to look at Jongdae. ”What guy-” 

”Prince Junmyeon!” The man in the suit says, standing up and holding his hand out for Junmyeon to shake. “I’m Yixing Zhang, advisor to the Volic King. We’ve been expecting you.” 

”It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zhang,” Junmyeon greets, bowing his head slightly. He takes Yixing’s hand and applying enough pressure to assert his status, but not so much that he comes across as domineering. 

”Jongdae, by the way,” Jongdae says, holding out his own hand like it’s muscle memory. 

”Prince Jongdae, of course!” Yixing says, quickly shaking Jongdae’s hand. “Your father didn’t say you would be coming.” 

Jongdae’s smile is tight. “I’m sure he didn’t.” 

Junmyeon stares at Yixing, curious—the man isn’t a werewolf or a vampire, nor is he fae or orc. The scent of Yixing’s blood is strong and familiar, yet he struggles to place it. It’s when he realizes he’s been staring at a vein on Yixing’s neck for too long that he suddenly remembers. 

”Human,” a deep voice says behind him. Junmyeon turns around to face the source, only to crane his head up just to get a good look at his face. The other man easily towers over him, his fiery red hair and sun-kissed skin making him look otherworldly. “Yixing’s human, in case you were wondering,” the man grins, sharp teeth on full display. 

”Oh, forgive my rudeness, master Chanyeol, I should’ve introduced you first,” Yixing says, “Prince Junmyeon, Prince Jongdae, this is Prince Chanyeol of the Volic Kingdom.” 

”Junmyeon, it’s so nice to meet you!” he shakes Junmyeon’s hand with such vigor that Junmyeon worries it’ll fall off. 

”The pleasure’s all mine,” Junmyeon says. Prince? How interesting, Junmyeon thinks—he didn’t know the Volic King had a son. 

”It’s so good to see you again, Jongdae!” Chanyeol says, crushing Jongdae into a hug. Junmyeon tries not to laugh—Chanyeol’s larger frame swallows up Jongdae’s and makes him look like a child. 

”Oh likewise,” Jongdae says. He makes eye contact with Junmyeon over Chanyeol’s shoulder and mimes the action of shooting himself in the head.

  


Yixing cuts his steak up into cubes, slowly chewing each one. Chanyeol inhales his second serving of steak at breakneck speed, nearly choking several times before Yixing thumps him on the back. Jongdae and Junmyeon, still full from earlier that night, have already finished off two bottles of wine between them and are working on a third. Junmyeon nurses his glass—he gains no nutritional value from regular food, and it takes huge quantities of alcohol for him just to get tipsy. 

Junmyeon eyes Yixing. Half a decade ago, the hunting and turning of humans by vampires was outlawed in all lands after humans nearly went extinct. After that, humans became a protected species, and their numbers have been steadily increasing since then, though they still only make up a small percentage of the world’s total population. Junmyeon had only ever interacted with a human once, years and years ago. _The acrid smell of blood staining the sheets, a body that lay unmoving on the floor…_

”Something wrong, Prince Junmyeon?” Yixing asks. 

Junmyeon hadn’t even realized he’d been staring for so long. ”Oh- no, there’s just...something on your face,” Junmyeon replies. 

He’s lying, and Junmyeon feels mildly guilty when Yixing takes a napkin and wipes at nothing. 

”So,” Chanyeol says, his face actually covered in sauce, “how did you two meet?” Chanyeol waggles his eyebrows at Junmyeon and Jongdae while Yixing sighs next to him. 

Jongdae and Junmyeon exchange a glance, then look back at Chanyeol. 

”Kidding! I know royalty don’t do meet-cutes or anything,” Chanyeol chuckles at his own comment. 

”Shouldn’t we go over the procedure for tomorrow?” Junmyeon asks. “The time is fast approaching, and-” 

Chanyeol waves him off. “Don’t be so tense, Prince Junmyeon. All I have to do is follow you two while you do all the hard work, and I stand around and look pretty, right?” 

”That’s hardly all you’ll be doing, Prince Chanyeol,” Yixing says, taking a sip of his water. 

”Well, essentially, it is,” Junmyeon concedes. 

”Then what’s there to discuss! Look, I work all the time, I’m sure the both of you have been hard at work too,” Jongdae scoffs at that, downing the rest of his glass, “I say tonight we just let loose.” 

”Thinking of painting Carnelia red, Prince Chanyeol? I’m sure there’s lots of mischief to be done in a town where the goats outnumber the people.” Jongdae pours himself another glass, emptying the bottle completely. 

”Who says we can’t have fun right here? It’s just the four of us in this restaurant after all.” Chanyeol wipes his mouth, his plate already cleaned off. 

”Three,” Yixing says, standing up then. “One of us has to be in good shape for tomorrow at least, so I’m getting some sleep to preserve my energy.” 

”Wh- For what?” Chanyeol asks, his big puppy dog eyes on full display. 

”For he has to inevitably drag your hungover ass around,” Jongdae says, yawning. 

Yixing stifles a laugh at that. ”Precisely. Goodnight, Prince Chanyeol, Prince Junmyeon, Prince Jongdae.” 

Chanyeol frowns the entire time Yixing leaves, then sighs. “He never wants to hang out with me,” Chanyeol shakes his head, “but I’ll get him one of these days.” 

”Yeah, yeah, less pining more drinking,” Jongdae says, making Chanyeol fluster. “What kind of fun did you have in mind?” There’s something in his voice that makes Junmyeon wary. 

”Just a fun little drinking game,” Chanyeol shrugs, a dimple forming when he smiles. His voice is ridiculously deep, making everything he says sound more sinister than it should be. 

Jongdae reciprocates with his own smile. ”You wouldn’t last one second drinking with me, Prince Chanyeol.” 

”You think very highly of yourself, Prince Jongdae.” 

”What- what is happening,” Junmyeon says, uneasy. 

”Waiter!” Chanyeol calls out, “A round of shots, please.”

  


▀▀▀

  


It happens too fast for Junmyeon to keep up. Their table gets cleared of everything except for shot glasses filled with ambrosia, a concoction exclusive to Wiccan territory because of its dangerously high alcohol percentage. Junmyeon picks up a glass, analyzing the microscopic glitters in the amber liquid that reflect the restaurant lighting in various colors.

”The game is ‘bullshit,’” Chanyeol says, “we’ll all take turns confessing our craziest stories. If at any point you think someone is making something up, you call them out on their bullshit. If they really were making something up, they drink. If you’re wrong, you have to take two shots.” 

”Two?” Junmyeon asks. “Just one of these could knock you out cold.” 

”Then you better hope no one calls you out on your bullshit, Prince Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says with a smile, his sharp teeth showing. 

”Let’s do this then,” Jongdae says, looking giddy as he eyes the glasses on the table. “I’ve never had this before. They say it tastes like bottled euphoria and the dreams of the innocent mixed with vanilla.” 

It starts out fine enough—between three princes, they had more than enough stories to share, shots of ambrosia overflowing and going down their throats like sweet nectar as they recounted their experiences. 

”Not the Duchess of the Praedari Kingdom,” Junmyeon whispers, both horrified and astonished. 

Jongdae nods, looking smug as he leans back in his chair and puts his arms behind his head. 

”I’m calling bullshit,” Chanyeol says, “there’s no way her husband would’ve gotten that jar up there so far without going to the hospital.” 

”Nope, it happened. And I had the pleasure of taking it out.” 

”You’re sick,” Chanyeol says, downing a shot and coughing afterward. So far, Junmyeon’s taken five, Jongdae three, and Chanyeol nine. 

”And you’re bad at this game.” 

”It’s your turn, Prince Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says. He’s a little warm and would like nothing more than to lay down on the floor, but otherwise fine. 

”Oh is it my turn again,” Chanyeol gets out. His tolerance must be amazing, most likely because of his size and height, Junmyeon thinks bitterly. Chanyeol clears his throat several times, his posture poised as if he’s preparing a speech. “So! I wasn’t always the handsome, proper prince you see today.” 

”Oh, this’ll be good,” Jongdae says dryly, rolling his eyes. 

”No comments from the peanut gallery unless it’s to call bullshit!” Chanyeol says. “Anyways, at one point in my life I was an ugly little boy with wire-frame glasses and pudgy cheeks with no friends to call my own. Sad, I know. My father was one of those old-timey types who insisted on not telling a single soul I was his son. Of course now I know it’s because my mother was the bastard’s mistress, but back then he told me it was because he didn’t want me getting an ego.” 

”That didn’t exactly work out,” Jongdae snickers, and Junmyeon covers his own smile with his hand. 

”Prince Jongdae if you interrupt one more time, you’re drinking this entire bottle,” Chanyeol points his finger at Jongdae’s face. “ _Anyways,_ to everyone else in the castle, I was the son of some drunkard that my mom had a one-night stand with. Father didn’t even acknowledge my existence until what, five years ago? His health started deteriorating and he had to tell everyone about me because if not, his much younger brother would have taken over the Kingdom once he died. And his hatred for his brother simply outweighed the disgust he had for me.” 

Silence falls over the small group. Jongdae’s eyes are empty as he stares at the drinks on the table. 

”What, no one wants to call bullshit?” Chanyeol laughs, the sound coming out strained. “What’s with the awkward atmosphere?” 

”No, we believe you,” Jongae replies, “but I’ll take a shot for you anyways. Solidarity, or something.” He downs two drinks in a row, and Chanyeol stares in awe. 

”Your father,” Junmyeon says, “is he a shorter man? With round cheeks and a greasy smile?” Chanyeol nods. “I’ve met him at the wedding,” Junmyeon continues, “and when he thought no one was looking, he took a couple of the cloth napkins and stuffed them in the crotch of his pants.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes go wide for a moment, and Junmyeon wonders if he should’ve kept that to himself. But then Chanyeol bursts out laughing, gangly arms clapping like a seal, and even Jongdae is bent over in his seat laughing, banging the table. Junmyeon can’t help but laugh as well. 

”I like you, Prince Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says, wiping away a tear. “You’re not as much of a hard-ass as I thought you’d be.” 

”Thank...you?” Junmyeon says. 

”He has his moments,” Jongdae says, giggling still. 

They call it a night, deciding that “depressing childhood stories” is a good stopping point. ‘For now, at least,’ Chanyeol said with a grin before leaving the restaurant. 

”He’s not even a little bit drunk,” Jongdae whispers, staring at Chanyeol’s retreating form. “The bastard.” 

Junmyeon and Jongdae stumble out of the restaurant and down the hallway, leaning heavily against each other for support. 

”Gods, I thought vampires were supposed to have a stupidly high tolerance or something,” Jongdae says, an arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders. 

”For regular alcohol, yes,” Junmyeon mutters, “that ambrosia shit is a gamechanger.” 

”At least our room is on the ground floor,” Jongdae says. “I cannot be held responsible for carrying your ass up the stairs.” 

Junmyeon chuckles to himself. 

”What.” 

”You’d carry me.” 

”...Don’t think too much into it.” 

Jongae’s body is warm and solid against Junmyeon’s. It’s funny, in a way, how they’ve been married for months now and this is the closest they’ve ever been. 

”Hey wait!” Junmyeon says suddenly, stopping in the middle of the hallway. 

Jongdae nearly trips but regains his footing just in time. “What now,” he sighs. 

”Let’s go for a walk,” he says excitedly. 

”I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s what we’ve been doing,” Jongdae says, impatience clear in his voice. 

”No, outside,” Junmyeon says, swaying in his spot. “We’ll go for a walk around the inn, sober up, and then we can see the golden hour! It’s supposedly really beautiful in Carnelia, it’d be a shame to not go while we’re already here.” 

”Junmyeon,” Jongdae sighs again, like he’s talking to a stubborn kid, “you’ll be covered in burns and blisters.” 

”Pssh, you don’t know that,” Junmyeon says, ambrosia still coursing in his veins. “I’m a born vampire, not a turned vampire. Nobody knows what happens to born vampires in the sun because born vampires are such a rare occurrence—only one is born every century, or something like that—that no one wants to risk it. I didn’t step foot outside the castle until I was a teenager, and I don’t even know what the sun looks like if it’s not in pictures.” Jongdae’s eyes are downcast, sorrowful, almost. Maybe Junmyeon’s imagining it. “I might burn to a crisp, I might be perfectly fine. Who knows?” 

Jongdae stares at him for a moment, and Junmyeon’s struck by how handsome he is. The contrast between the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline with the length of his eyelashes, the pretty shape of his cupid’s bow. Well, shit. 

”Fine.” Jongdae’s mouth moves, and Junmyeon realizes he’s been staring at it too long. 

”Huh?” 

”We’ll go on the damn walk, but when you turn into ashes I’m telling everyone it was your idea.” 

Junmyeon jumps in joy, then immediately falls on his ass.

  


▀▀▀

  


”This? This is what you wanted to see?” Jongdae says. They’re sitting on top of one of the hills just behind the inn. From here, the pair have a good view of the coastline, the sea waves churning underneath the night sky. 

”Give it time,” Junmyeon says, laying on his back, “a watched pot never boils.” It’s quiet for a few beats, and Junmyeon doesn’t know if it’s the ambrosia or the sudden confidence boost from how much him and Jongdae have been talking, but—“Hey why don’t we play a game?” 

Jongdae turns to look at him, curious, the wind tousling his hair. 

”The confession game,” Junmyeon says, “except instead of taking shots, we could…” 

”Hit each other.” Jongdae finishes, smiling in a way that has Junmyeon looking at a spot on Jongdae’s forehead instead of directly at him. 

”I don’t like how quick you were to say that, but sure,” Junmyeon says as he sits up properly. “Who first?” 

”Well, at the restaurant it would’ve been your turn after Chanyeol, so…” 

Junmyeon squints at him. “Fine.” Jongdae fistpumps as he turns his body to better face Junmyeon. “Alright...well, once, when I was about fifteen? In vampire years at least-” 

”Vampire years?” Jongdae asks. 

”You really need to read a book once in a while,” Junmyeon says, and Jongdae laughs, “but yes; born vampires age slower, so I was physically fifteen, but I have no idea how old I actually was at the time.” 

”No wonder you still have baby features,” Jongdae smiles at him. It’s meant to be a jab, but Junmyeon looks away regardless, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. 

”Anyways, when I was fifteen, I followed my father on a trip to the Lieken Kingdom in the Northwest. It’s like an eternal winter up there, and the sun only rises for a couple hours every year. It’s perfect for vampires, but no so good for livestock. So in order to keep themselves fed, they have a number of humans around, all with puncture wounds covering their necks and arms.” 

Jongdae’s jaw drops. “Bullshit. That’s illegal, not to mention the fact that that’s a form of slavery.” 

Junmyeon leans forward and punches Jongdae in the arm twice, making the other curse as he rubs his arm. “It’s true,” Junmyeon says. “Feeding off of humans is illegal because vampires kept going too far and killing them. The Lieken King said that because no human has died off a single feeding there, that what they do is legal.” 

”Gods…” 

Junmyeon nods solemnly. “Okay, your turn now.” 

”Wait what? You can’t stop there,” Jongdae says, his full attention on Junmyeon. 

”What more do you want me to say?” 

”The Lieken are pretty much a myth around here. They never leave their Kingdom, the King only attends global meetings via conference call, no journalist has gotten in or out. But you went there! And came back!” Jongdae looks at him like he’s grown a new head, and Junmyeon sighs. 

”Well… at the time, I had already fed enough to last the two nights we were to spend there. But then the weather conditions grew much too dangerous for us to leave when we were supposed to, so we ended up having to stay for three weeks.” 

”Oh no,” Jongdae whispers.” 

”I lasted as long as I could... but on the last week, I could barely get out of bed, my head spinning every time I moved.” 

Jongdae’s quiet, but Junmyeon isn’t even looking at him, his hands digging into the dirt beneath him and pulling up blades of grass to stave off the tears filling his eyes. 

”My father and the Lieken King brought a human into my room, a man with pale skin and empty eyes. They put his wrist out in front of my face and I just… lost it.” 

”Junmyeon…” 

”I don’t know what happened. When I came to, I was covered in blood. The human wasn’t moving.” His throat closed up, angry at the tears that fell down his face. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground—he would not have Jongdae see him cry. 

”You didn’t know, Junmyeon, you didn’t-” 

Junmyeon shakes his head. ”I did,” he says, attempting to laugh only for the sound to come out empty and hollow. “I panicked and tore at the skin on my wrist and put my arm in front of the human’s mouth. By the time my father and the King realized what was happening, they pulled me off, but it was too late.” 

”You- You...turned him?” Jongdae whispers. 

Junmyeon nods. “It gets even better,” Junmyeon says, his voice shaking, “The Lieken King was astonished, said he didn’t know I had it in me. I felt so awful, I begged to bring the man with me even though father was furious. Eventually we reached an agreement—my father paid off the Lieken King so he wouldn’t tell anyone I turned someone, and I was allowed to bring the man with me back the kingdom. Except, the Lieken King gave us one condition,” Junmyeon sighs, his chest feeling like it would collapse. “As punishment, he demanded my fangs to be filed down so that I never feed off or turn another human again. An old, traditional punishment that was the equivalent of the death sentence to a vampire. I agreed—I’ve never fed off another living being before or after that, so what purpose did my fangs have? My father against it—if word got out that the Prince of the Vampir had his fangs dulled down, then it wouldn’t be long before people found out the reason why. But that King wouldn’t budge. So they reached another deal. If I wouldn’t do it, then…” 

Jongdae takes a breath, connecting the pieces. “...It- it was Sehun, wasn’t it?” 

Junmyeon covers his face with his hands, struggling to breathe. Jongdae leans forward, his hand rubbing circles on Junmyeon’s back. 

It takes a moment for Junmyeon to find his voice again, and when he does, it’s barely more than a whisper. “They held him down. He had barely been a vampire for a few hours, and they proceeded to take what made him a vampire. And I let them. I was a stupid, fucking coward, and I let them.” 

Jongdae pulls Junmyeon into his side, presses Junmyeon’s head against Jongdae’s shoulder. And Junmyeon lets him, lets Jongdae envelop him in warmth as he leaves tear stains on Jongdae’s shoulder. 

”S-Since, since then,” Junmyeon stutters, his hand coming up to fist the fabric of Jongdae’s shirt. “I have sworn to protect him. I would give him everything he could ever need. I would have him by my side at all times. But, at my core, I am a coward, an idiot who couldn’t do a single thing then, so what fucking right do I have to think I can protect him now.” 

Jongdae doesn’t say anything as he holds Junmyeon, and for that Junmyeon is grateful. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. They don’t move even when the sun starts to rise, emerging from the sea and brightening the horizon. 

”Junmyeon,” Jongdae whispers, rubbing Junmyeon’s arm. Junmyeon doesn't move, his body trembling in Jongdae’s hold. “The golden hour,” Jongdae says. 

Only then does Junmyeon lift his head, his face wet as he looks toward the sea. 

The sun’s reach stretches far and wide, chasing away the darkness of night. It reflects brilliantly off the water, casting everything it touches in the most vibrant shades of orange and pink. Its arrival brought with it new morning, a new day. 

”It’s… it’s beautiful,” Jongdae says. He looks down at Junmyeon, a bright smile lighting up his features. “It’s beautiful, Junmyeon.” 

”It is,” Junmyeon says, his eyes never once leaving Jongdae’s, the warm, amber hues reflected in them. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  


It’s only when they’re walking back toward the inn do they come to a realization.

Jongdae pokes at Junmyeon’s cheek, picks up Junmyeon’s hand to inspect it. “You’re… you’re okay? You’re not burning?” he asks, incredulous as he pulls at Junmyeon’s fingers. 

”Huh,” Junmyeon says, staring at his hand and holding it up to the sunlight, “would you look at that.” 

”That’s it,” Jongdae deadpans, “you just found out you’re a vampire who can walk around during the daylight and all you have to say is ‘would you look at that’?” 

Junmyeon shrugs, smiling. He closes his eyes and lets the sun wash over him, bathes himself in the morning light. “What more is there to say?”

  


In the parking lot of the Cozy Carnelia Inn sits an obnoxious, red tour bus. Sehun is pressed up against the armchair of the couch, trying his hardest to avoid Baekhyun. The werewolf brushed his hair that morning and put on tight jeans and a shirt that actually fits him, and Sehun is reluctant to admit that he’s been staring since then. Baekhyun is already annoying the two newest passengers from the Volic Kingdom, asking inappropriate questions that leave advisor Yixing frowning while Prince Chanyeol is in tears, bent in half with laughter. Kyungsoo is in the driver’s seat, a map of Obsidia open while he scratches his head. Sehun had tried to show him a maps app on his phone, but it was ultimately a lost cause—Kyungsoo frowned at the device and pushed it away like it would burn him. Kyungsoo adjusts the sunglasses on his face–he once lived on a farm not unlike the ones in Carnelia, and has since developed an immunity to the sun’s rays over time, though his eyes still strained in direct sunlight. Folding the map up with a frustrated sigh, Kyungsoo sits back in his seat and eyes his watch. They were due to leave in ten minutes, and Junmyeon and Jongdae had yet to arrive.

  


They’re due to leave for Obsidia in ten minutes, and Jongdae’s in a panic. 

”Where is it, where the fuck is it,” Jongdae mutters under his breath. Junmyeon’s standing at the doorway, his hands clenched by his sides, as he watches the werewolf open and close cabinet drawers, upturn his bags, get on his hands and knees to look for something that Junmyeon has in his pocket. 

Junmyeon currently has two options: 

The first is to leave the bottle of wolfsbane somewhere Jongdae can easily find it, but discreet enough that it looks like Junmyeon hadn’t noticed it at all. The pros of this option are that Jongdae will keep using the wolfsbane to sedate his wolf, which, in turn, means that whatever danger Jongdae’s wolf poses to the kingdom and himself would be non-existent. Junmyeon would pretend none of this ever happened, they would go back to the lives they lead before coming here, and that would be that. 

The second is to be fully honest and confront Jongdae about the wolfsbane. The pros of this option are… well, Junmyeon doesn’t know. What could be gained from outright questioning Jongdae about this? What did Junmyeon hope to gain? Confirmation? ‘Yes, I’ve been using it to keep my wolf at bay. Now hand it over.’ Then what? Would anything change? Would it even matter? 

The option he should be choosing is so clear in his head, but he doesn’t move to take the wolfsbane out of his pocket. His hands stay firmly by his side, and he remembers. He remembers how happy and free Minseok had been when he showed Junmyeon his wolf. He remembers how horribly lonely Jongdae looked in that dungeon cell, his eyes desperate as he asked Junmyeon if he would let the kingdom fall if it meant Jongdae could be free. 

”Is something wrong?” 

Jongdae’s face is directly in front of his then, concern etched all over his face. 

”Oh nothing, I just,” Junmyeon wipes at his nose, the wetness of his eyes—when had that happened? 

”Is it because we’re seeing Minseok today?” Jongdae asks quietly, his voice laced with sympathy and… something else. Sadness? That can’t be right. 

Junmyeon nods, and Jongdae smiles at him in a way so beautiful and pained that it has Junmyeon questioning everything he’s been brought up to believe. 

”Yeah, I’m pretty excited too,” he laughs, “but I think you should get down to the bus with the others. I’ll meet you guys in a bit after I find this thing.” 

He remembers Jongdae’s confession at the door, his arm around Junmyeon’s shoulder, his face as the golden hour reflected brightly and beautifully around him. 

Jongdae turns back toward the room, and Junmyeon reaches out to grab Jongdae’s hand. 

”Wait,” Junmyeon says when Jongdae looks at him, confused. His heart pounds in his ears, the rational part of his brain screaming bloody murder as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small bottle of wolfsbane. 

It’s instantaneous, the way Jongdae’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack. The silence of the room is heavy, thick, and Junmyeon wants to run away. 

He can’t. He won’t. 

”Is this yours?” 

”How… how did you get that.” 

It’s a confirmation that has Junmyeon’s heart sinking. ”So it is yours?” 

”Where did you find that.” 

”What are you using this for, Jongdae? Just tell me.” 

Jongdae is quiet, his eyes on the floor. 

”...You’re using it to sedate your wolf, aren’t you? Just like how you chain yourself up during the full moon, this is what keeps the wolf in check every other night, isn’t it?” 

”Give me the bottle, Junmyeon.” 

”This stuff is lethal, Jongdae. I have no idea how long you’ve been using this, or how you’ve been using it, but it’s going to end badly one day, and-” 

”Give me,” Jongdae growls out, and it scares Junmyeon speechless, “the bottle, Junmyeon. You’re right, you _don’t_ know how long I’ve been using this, you don’t know what my body can take, what it can do, what it’s capable of doing if I don’t take it. If you give me the bottle, we can go to Obsidia and get Minseok, and then we’ll all go home and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.” 

_He’s right_ , Junmyeon’s head screams at him, _you have no fucking idea what’s good for him. If he’s been using it for this long, then he knows more than you can even imagine._

”It’ll be like none of this ever happened?” Junmyeon asks. Jongdae locked up in the dungeon, Jongdae staring up at him through the cell bars. 

”That’s right,” Jongdae nods. 

Junmyeon bites his lip. “If that’s the case,” he pockets the bottle, and Jongdae’s eyes flash with something Junmyeon’s never seen in him before, “then I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, Jongdae. I don’t want to pretend like none of this ever happened. I don’t want to go back to how we used to be,” Junmyeon looks up at Jongdae, his vision going blurry with a new wave of tears. “And I don’t think you do either.” 

It’s quiet again. Junmyeon hates the quiet. 

”Junmyeon,” Jongdae breathes. His face is expressionless, his tone even. That scares Junmyeon more than any wolf could. 

”If you want it, you’ll have to take it from me yourself.” 

Jongdae laughs, only stopping when it’s clear Junmyeon isn’t kidding. “You think I can’t?” 

Junmyeon hesitates. ”I know you could. But you wouldn’t.” 

Jongdae stares into Junmyeon’s eyes, searching for something. He walks forward, and Junmyeon tenses up, prepared for Jongdae to strike him, physically take the bottle from him. 

He doesn’t—Jongdae barrels past him out the door in a flash, not looking. 

Junmyeon’s shaking, his legs giving out as he slides to the floor.

  


Junmyeon runs into Sehun and Kyungsoo on his way out the inn. 

”Junmyeon!” Sehun calls out when Junmyeon nearly rushes past them. “Junmyeon- wait why are you out in the sun without protection? Why aren’t you having a reaction?” He’s covered up from head to toe in chunky sunglasses, a silk headscarf, a turtleneck, and dark pants tucked into his socks, looking like flustered grandmother. 

”I’ll explain later,” Junmyeon says in a rush, “have you seen-” 

”Prince Jongdae? He was fucking sprinting out of here so fast, I didn’t know what he was at first. Baekhyun tried calling out to him, but he’s faster than any of us and I told Baekhyun to try calling his phone or something but the dumbass turned into a wolf and just fucking chased after him and-” 

”Where did he go” Junmyeon asks, panicked. 

”Through there, sir” Kyungsoo replies, pointing at the pine tree forest in front of the hotel. Junmyeon swears. 

”And where are Yixing and Prince Chanyeol?” Junmyeon asks. 

”They’re on the bus still, sir.” 

”Good, good,” Junmyeon says, massaging his temples. “The Volic Kingdom is near here right? Please ask them to stand by in case we need a search party.” 

”Of course. I’ll ask Prince Chanyeol to ask his officials in the kingdom to keep an eye out for now,” Kyungsoo says. 

”Thank you, all of you,” Junmyeon says sincerely, his heart full. “If we had more time I would-” 

”Just go!” Both Kyungsoo and Sehun yell at once. 

Junmyeon turns to head toward the forest, stopping when a hand on his arm pulls him back. Sehun’s looking at him with tears in his eyes, his other hand clenched into a fist. 

”Junmyeon, just- be careful. Please.” 

Junmyeon pulls his arm out of Sehun’s hold, and takes Sehun’s hand in his. “I will,” Junmyeon smiles.

  


Between Carnelia and the Volic Kingdom is a forest of pine trees that go on for miles upon miles. They stretch up to the sky, ancient and magnificent, and make Junmyeon feel like he’s only inches tall. 

”Jongdae? Jongdae!” Junmyeon calls out, hands cupped around his mouth. It’s a feeble attempt, and Jongdae wouldn’t respond even if he heard him. 

Still, there’s a desperation in him that tells him to try, to never stop trying, 

”Where are you, Jongdae.” Junmyeon thinks about what Jongdae had told him back at the inn, about Jongdae thinking of him and looking for him even when he’s not around. The deeper Junmyeon heads into the forest, his voice going hoarse as he screams Jongdae’s name, the more he realizes he’s not so different himself. 

Junmyeon stops. Distantly, he hears footsteps. “J-Jongdae-” More footsteps. Heavier. Faster. A snarl. Headed straight for him. 

Junmyeon barely turns around before something tackles him to the ground, his shoulder making a nasty crunching noise upon impact. 

It’s heavy, crushing Junmyeon underneath its weight. He opens his mouth to scream, stopping when he sees the creature that’s only inches away from his face. 

Black fur. White crescent markings. Like the night sky had taken on the form of a wolf. 

”Minseok?” Junmyeon breathes. 

It both is and isn’t Minseok, the creature before him, snarling and dripping saliva onto his face. There’s dirt caked on its face, and Its pupils are completely blown—Junmyeon’s not even sure if the wolf knows what it’s doing. 

”Minseok? Minseok are you there?” 

Something seems to click in its head, and it opens its mouth, exposing yellowed, sharp teeth. Junmyeon does scream then, the wolf lunging for his throat. 

Suddenly, a flash of silver hurdles itself into the wolf, knocking it off of Junmyeon’s body and into the trunk of a tree. 

Junmyeon scrambles to get away, clutching at his shoulder. 

He crawls behind another tree, shaking as he sees the black wolf—Minseok—on the ground, unmoving. “Please no, no, no,” Junmyeon whispers. The wolf’s body rises and deflates steadily, still breathing, and relief floods Junmyeon’s system. 

A much, much larger wolf, taller than Junmyeon, pads toward Minseok. Its fur is a brilliant silver, shining under the sunlight. If Minseok’s wolf is the night sky, then this wolf is the moon. Junmyeon gasps when it grabs Minseok by the throat, throwing him against another tree. Minseok yelps pathetically, and Junmyeon hears a nasty sound, like a branch snapping off. 

The silver wolf moves to pick up Minseok again, and Junmyeon rushes out to stand between the two wolves. 

”Stop, stop!” he shouts, waving his one good arm. 

The wolf growls at him, teeth exposed. From here, the wolf is even more intimidating—it could take him out with a swipe of its paw. 

It’s as beautiful as it is scary, with its silver fur, its abnormal size, the small, crescent markings underneath its eyes… 

”Junmyeon!” calls out Sehun’s voice. Junmyeon turns and finds Sehun running toward him, a wolf with copper fur rushing out to get between Junmyeon and the silver wolf. 

Sehun is quick to pull Junmyeon behind him while the copper wolf barks at the silver wolf, the two staring each other down. 

Junmyeon stares dumbly at the copper wolf as it narrowly avoids the silver wolf’s jaws. ”Is that-” 

”Baekhyun. And I’m guessing that’s-” 

”Jongdae. I think.” Junmyeon stares into its warm, deep amber eyes. The eyes that so beautifully reflected the sunrise. 

”You think?” Sehun screeches. 

”Yeah. Hold on, I’m gonna try something.” Junmyeon walks out from behind Sehun, despite the other’s protests, and stands next to Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun tries to position himself in front of Junmyeon, but Junmyeon gently nudges him away with his hand. 

”Jongdae!” Junmyeon yells at the wolf. 

The silver wolf turns its attention onto Junmyeon, growling as it does so. 

”Let’s go home, Jongdae!” 

”Junmyeon,” Sehun hisses, “what are you doing? Get back here!” 

The wolf doesn’t move, eyes fixated on Junmyeon. 

Junmyeon clenches his hand, steadies his voice. ”You’re just scared, aren’t you? You’ve had to hide your wolf for so long, that you’re not used to it, right?” 

The wolf snarls, its canines showing. It could crush Junmyeon between its jaws in no time, if it wanted. 

”Its okay to be scared, Jongdae! You’ll get through it. You don’t have to hide anymore.” 

The wolf suddenly charges at Junmyeon, kicking up dirt and dust with its speed. Sehun screams while Baekhyun lunges to bite at the silver wolf. 

When the dust settles, the silver wolf’s muzzle is pressed against Junmyeon’s forehead, Baekhyun’s teeth in Junmyeon’s arm. 

Baekhyun lets go immediately when he realizes who he’s bitten, ashamed as he backs away. 

Junmyeon doesn’t move, lets the wolf rub its muzzle against Junmyeon’s forehead, his cheeks, its fur tickling Junmyeon’s skin. He brings a hand up to touch the wolf’s soft fur, blood trickling down his arm. “You’re very beautiful, you know that?” he whispers. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Jongdae.”

  


Before Yixing became an advisor, he studied medicine in Obsidia, as luck would have it. 

”They’ve been using him as a lab rat, the bastards,” Yixing tells Junmyeon in the parking lot of the Cozy Carnelia Inn. Jongdae, now in human form, is spending time with his brother, still in wolf form, before they have to return to the Wulfen-Vampir Kingdom. “Apparently they caught him while he was a wolf and planned to use him for testing. Then when they saw how fast he could shift, they sedated him and kept him. He’s been trying to break out ever since.” ‘They’ refers to a group of scientists in Obsidia experimenting with wolfsbane and other outlawed herbs and chemicals. 

”I’m not surprised,” Chanyeol says, leaning against the bus. “The Volic Kingdom is home to a number of protected and endangered species. Those bastards do a lot of sniffing around for more test subjects.” 

”Is there nothing that can be done?” Junmyeon asks, remembering Minseok’s blown pupils, his patchy fur. 

Both Yixing and Chanyeol scoff. “Not unless you completely overturn the Obsidian government. The money and support for this kind of thing doesn’t come out of nowhere. Dig enough, and you’ll find the connections run deeper than you think.” 

Junmyeon nods. “Well, I may not be the official ruler of the Wulfen-Vampir Kingdom, but I’ll make sure they get their due. One way or the other.” 

Chanyeol smiles. “I like you, Prince Junmyeon. If you ever find your way around here again, you’ve got a place to stay in the Volic Kingdom. Or we can just meet up for drinks and another game of bullshit at the Cozy Carnelia.” 

They both laugh, while Yixing rolls his eyes. 

”Junmyeon!” Jongdae says, beckoning him over, “C’mere and say goodbye to Minseok.” 

Junmyeon stops in front of the forest, trying to avoid moving his arm sling too much as he kneels down before Minseok to make eye contact. The wolf is still as majestic as ever but now, he looked more like a big puppy. 

”Are you sure you’ll be fine out here? The stuff Yixing gave you is supposed to be really strong, but I still think you should come back with us to rest, at least.” 

Minseok barks in reply. Junmyeon doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

”It’ll be fine, Junmyeon. This forest technically belongs to the Volic Kingdom, and Chanyeol said he’ll keep him safe. Besides, he’s been through far worse than this.” Jongdae pets his brother’s head, a fondness in his eyes. 

Junmyeon smiles. Memories—of their walks, of Minseok’s bashful smile, his softspoken voice, the faraway look in his eyes as he gazed up at the mountains—flash through his mind. “Well, goodbye Minseok.” Minseok presses his head against Junmyeon’s forehead. “Good luck,” Junmeon whispers. 

They watch Minseok run off into the forest, his tail swishing high in the air, not once looking back. 

The moment is ruined when Baekhyun honks the horn on the tour bus. “Let’s go already!” he shouts out the side of the window. “Baekkie’s hungie!” 

Jongae groans, while Junmyeon hides a laugh behind his hand. 

”Shall we go then?” Junmyeon asks, holding out his hand. 

The setting sun bathes Jongdae in golden light. “We shall,” he smiles taking his husband’s hand. 

The two walk toward the tour bus, holding hands for the first time since they got married. 

”Oh wait, I forgot something,” Junmyeon says suddenly, stopping both of them in their tracks. 

”What could you possibly be-” 

Junmyeon kisses Jongdae. “You’re so lame,” Jongdae whispers against Junmyeon’s lips, his hand coming up to cup Junmyeon’s cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

Distantly, Baekhyun honks the horn again, and Junmyeon ignores it in favor of biting Jongdae’s bottom lip. The two kiss in the parking lot of the inn for some time, the sun descending to give way to new night, new dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> [title.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maONL_HfI20) thank you so much for reading! i've never worked on anything of this magnitude before, but i'm so happy i did—what an emotional journey, phew. don't forget to leave kudos/comments~


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